Black Cadillacs
by Mara-DragonMaster
Summary: "Black Cadillac's dawn on a moonless night..." Something terrible has happened at Princeton; can Chase move on? Can House help? Will Cameron fall in love with the new, broken Chase, or will someone else? - Hurt/Recovery Fic. Friendship only.
1. Chapter 1

"**Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster**

Disclaimer: This story does contain some adult themes (kidnapping, abuse, and recovery) and is not suitable for children under the age of 16.

_Author's Note: This story was conceived of and begun by You're Out of Your Vulcan Mind, and then adopted by me when Vulcan offered the story to anyone who wanted to finish it. I will be posting it one or two chapters at a time, to give those who wish to refresh their memory an opportunity to do so, and those who are seeing it for the first time a chance to read it as they would any other fanfiction._

_I hope that you enjoy this story!

* * *

_

**Chapter 1**

"Where's your name tag?"

House looked up at the figure in the doorway, surprised. "Why?"

"I'm bored, and out of crossword puzzles. I might as well get your clinic hours done." _And I want to get the heck away from Cameron_, Chase added in his mind.

"You're offering to do my clinic hours?"

"I'm done with mine, and you would have made me do yours anyway. This saves you the trouble of asking– or, ordering me to do them."

"I want to do my own clinic hours."

Chase looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Fine." He went back to the conference room and flopped back into one of the chairs. He did a silent countdown in his head: three… two… one…

The nametag came flying out of the office. Chase, prepared, caught it easily. House looked out and frowned in annoyance; he'd been hoping to surprise the wombat and peg him in the head.

Cameron watched the whole scene play out and rolled her eyes. "Suck up."

Chase shot her a frustrated glare; why did she always feel the need to be unkind to him when they were at work?

--

"Hello, I'm Dr. House, so–"

"You're not Dr. House. Not that I mind…" The patient trailed off, looking at him admiringly. Chase looked up at her. She was stunning; long shapely legs in low-rise jeans, perfect petite frame, pale flawless skin, hazel eyes and layered brown hair that hung in waves about her shoulders. Suddenly he didn't mind either.

She smiled, her mouth curling girlishly at the corner. "He's making you do his clinic hours for him, isn't he?"

Chase raised his eyebrows in surprise. How did she know?

"House and I go way back. He's 'friends' with my father." She winked. "You know."

Chase found his voice again. "Right, of course. So what seems to be the trouble?"

"There isn't any trouble, actually. I'm here to get a doctor to sign my physical."

Chase nodded and flipped through her file. "You're a doctor?"

"Yeah, work in Princeton General."

"And they didn't have someone who could sign it there?"

"It's… complicated." Her one eye narrowed in a look of concentration, as though she were trying to figure out how to explain. "I just didn't want someone at work doing it. The guy's a jerk. He's my ex, but he doesn't get it yet and… well…"

"I understand perfectly." He smiled at her reassuringly. She returned the smile, apple cheeks rising with the motion. _Wow, she is beautiful_, Chase thought to himself. He pulled out the forms from her file, forcing his mind back to the task at hand, and was surprised to see that the forms were already filled out. "Umm…"

"I did my own, I just need someone to sign it. House and I kind of had an arrangement– you know, I'll sign yours if you'll sign mine…"

Chase looked uncomfortable. When she realized the burden she was putting on him she straightened nervously; this was completely against protocol. "You know what, I'm so sorry, I… you… I shouldn't have… I'll just call House later." Grabbing her jacket she got up to leave.

"No– no. Its alright." He did a cursory look through the papers and quickly signed them. "There you are." He handed them to her.

She beamed. "Thanks so much." She said, and started to leave. Then she stopped, fiddling with the papers, and she turned around. Sticking out a hand, she shyly cocked her head to one side.

"Eloise Peney."

Chase chuckled. "Robert Chase." He shook her hand.

"Are you… This might seem really forward, but are you free tonight?"

He blinked. That was out of nowhere. "Wh-what?"

She blushed deeply, and shook her head. "Never mind. Sorry."

"No, _I'm_ sorry. Yes. Yes, I am free tonight. Why? What do you have in mind?" He asked, leaning back against the exam table.

"There's this– absolutely _terrible_ function I have to go to at work, and I need a date, and– well, I don't really know anyone outside of work. So if you can… I mean if you want to… would you?" Despite her attempt to appear nonchalant her eyes held a nervousness and a hope that made her seem almost childlike. It was endearing.

His mouth pulled sideways into a small smile. "Sure. I'd love to."

She looked relieved. "Thank you so much, you have no idea what this means to me. Oh, here." She took out a piece of paper and wrote down her number and address and handed it to him.

"What time should I be there?"

"It starts at seven, but why don't you stop by my place around six. We can have drinks or something, to steel ourselves for the night ahead." She closed her eyes, making a face. "Oo," she moaned. "I'm making this sound so bad. You won't want to come. It's a formal, black-tie event. I'm so sorry, you must think I'm…"

"I'll be there at six." He smiled again, more and more amused and intrigued by her, and she nodded gratefully. He pulled out a business card and wrote down his number, just in case there was a change of plans, and gave it to her.

With a final shy, grateful smile she took it. "Bye."

"Bye."

She left.

The next patient came in and sat down nervously. A 19-year-old male, barely out of puberty, it seemed.

"What seems to be the problem?"

The young man shifted. "I think that, well…"

Chase inwardly groaned, the euphoria from meeting Eloise disappearing. This was going to be a long day.

--

His heart jumped to his throat when he heard the phone ring. Had she changed her mind? Chase grabbed his cell and relaxed when he saw it was only Cameron. "Hello?"

"_Hey. You know, maybe I was a bit too harsh this morning_." Her voice was soft. "_I know it's not Tuesday, but… you want to come over and I'll tell you I'm sorry_?"

"I'm actually getting ready to go to something. Sorry." He was standing in front of the mirror, straightening his tie.

"_Oh. You didn't say anything at work today about plans_." She sounded surprised and disappointed, and Chase felt a bit of irritation rise. "_Well, um… whatever then. See you tomorrow_." She hung up, and he hung up and tossed the phone on his bed.

He was getting tired of this. They had a no-strings-attached relationship, but he felt she was abusing it. She had this idea that he was there whenever she wanted him, like he didn't have a life outside of her and work. At work she treated him like he didn't mean anything to her, and then every Tuesday she would make it up to him, only to kick him out of her house in the early hours of the morning to start the cycle all over again.

He guessed that Eloise was using him as well, but at least he didn't love Eloise.

Chase checked his watch. Quarter-to-six. He grabbed his coat and hurried out.

--

In the dark He watched Robert walk quickly out to his car, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He smiled; He loved to see Robert look so eager. Just like a boy should on a date. Just as long as Robert followed His rules– He didn't want his son to go with just _any_ girl, after all. Robert's relationship with that woman Cameron had been worrisome, but she was no real threat. Too manipulative for His liking, but it was just a passing crush. No strings attached. This new woman though– He shook his head. She could be trouble. He started the car and followed Robert's.

Robert better not forget his father's rules.

--

"Just a second! I'm still a mess!" Eloise shouted. She ran to the door in her bare feet, paused, pulled her hair behind her ears and opened the door.

"Sorry if I'm…" Chase trailed off at the vision before him. She was wearing a strapless dress, a deep black-purple that shimmered in the light, embellished with black embroidered flowers. They sparkled with sequins, winding around her thin frame, accentuating her pale complexion. Her nails and lips were colored a matching black-purple, and her eyes were darkly lined, so her hazel eyes glowed out yellow. She looked stunning, dark, wild, ethereal.

She blushed under his gaze, and gestured to herself. "I'm a complete mess– I'm nowhere near ready."

"I think you look beautiful."

Blushing again, she tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." There was a pause while they looked at each other, then she shook her head. "Oh, come on in." She pushed the door wider and stepped aside to let him in. "Make yourself at home; I just need to finish my hair. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

She hurried off. Chase looked about the apartment. It was done in an entirely retro style. Bright cheery colors, interestingly shaped fixtures– the kitchen was straight out of the sixties. Eloise was definitely different. Speaking of which…

She came back out, her hair pulled into a twist and held by black and purple silk flowers. She looked like some sort of dark sprite or pixie. "Drinks?"

"Sure."

"What would you like?" She padded into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside.

"Um…" he leaned against her kitchen counter. "Whatever you have is fine."

She pulled out two beers. "This okay?"

"Great."

They went back to the living room and sat down on the couch. There were a few plates set out with nuts and pretzels on the coffee table.

"So…" She leaned back into the rich red cushions.

"So…" He drawled.

"How long have you been working for House?"

"About three years." Chase said. "How long have you known him?"

"All my life. He and my dad did residency together. They were friends– at least, until the infarction. He was like my second dad." She smiled. "He was the one who would tell funny stories, do magic tricks–get you the things that a real dad would get you– I haven't seen him for a while. I just moved back here a year ago." She paused. "He doesn't know yet."

"Oh," Chase fought down a feeling of slight irritation that _all_ the women he went out with seemed to have a fixation with House. Time to change the subject. "So, where were you living?"

They engaged in the idle chitchat for a while, neither wanting to give away too much or say something that might offend the other. As time went on they grew more comfortable and started to open up a bit more, relaxing and enjoying the other's company.

"So, do you like her?"

Chase blinked and looked at her. "Huh?"

"Dr. Cameron, you keep bringing her up. Do you?" Eloise watched him curiously.

"Would that be a problem?"

"No."

"I guess."

"You going out?"

"Would that be a problem?"

"If I was stealing someone's boyfriend, then yes, it would."

"I'm not… we're not…"

"I know we're not actually 'going out.' I just don't want an angry scorned girlfriend to come after me."

Chase looked at her, then shook his head. "No. She's not my girlfriend."

"Would you like her to be?"

His mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out except for a slightly disbelieving chuckle. How did she manage to catch him off guard like that?

"I'm sorry. I guess I never grew out of middle school. Sorry." She looked embarrassed.

"No– it's okay." Chase shook his head, waving it off. "What about you? Any hidden boyfriends I might make jealous?"

"To be honest? Yes. He's not– a boyfriend, he's my ex–" she shifted nervously. "I really should have told you about this before but– this was such an impulse thing, you know?"

"It's alright, sure. Tell me about it."

"He works in the ER with me." She explained. "I moved here with him from Denver. We never were really close, but my dad liked him so we stayed together; but he was always kind of a jerk." Eyes darkening slightly Eloise glanced to one side. "Things got bad, really bad. The final straw was when he started cheating. It's been a year, but he still doesn't get that we're not a thing. He might be at this party. I'm sorry, I should have told you before. If you decide you'd rather not go now…"

"No, no. I mean, if you're going to be there it can't be _that_ bad." He gave her his winning smile, hoping to reassure her, and she beamed back, relief shining in her eyes.

"That really means a lot to me. Oh shoot!" She glanced at the clock. "We need to go soon, or we'll be late. Shoot. Maybe we'll be able to sneak out early or something." Clambering from the couch she slid on a pair of black high-heels.

Chase stood up. "Alright. We can take my car."

--

He watched them come out. He'd gotten nervous when He couldn't find a good place to watch them in the apartment, and they were in there so long. He frowned at her dress– all dark, like a temptress. Still, they seemed nervous with each other right now, and they weren't touching. So far so good.

Wait… Chase reached out to take her hand, and she accepted, smiling shyly. They walked to Chase's car hand in hand, like two teenagers on their first date. She was reeling him in…

He narrowed his eyes.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 2**

"Of course he would be here." Chase groaned under his breath. He'd just gone to the bar to get a drink for Eloise when he heard the familiar tap of a cane behind him.

"So this is where wombats go at night."

Chase ignored him, hoping he'd go away.

"What are you doing here?"

Dang. No such luck. "I was invited."

"You're on a date." House observed curiously.

"Yes."

"I don't see Cameron around here."

"I suppose no one asked her to come."

House raised his eyebrows. "Cheating on Cameron are we?"

"You can't cheat on someone if you are not together." Chase turned to face him, drink in hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Date."

Chase looked incredulous. "Who would ask you?"

Before House could retort there was a loud voice.

"House." Cuddy marched up. "We're only here five minutes and you're already glued to the bar?" then she saw the blond doctor. "Chase– oh. What are you doing here?"

Chase was too busy looking in shock between Cuddy and his boss, so House answered for him. "He has a date. And I'm trying to figure out who it is. Must be that new nurse, what was HIS name?"

"Robert, hey– I got worried, thought you might have ditched me." Eloise slid to Chase's side, touching her hand to his arm.

House looked shocked. Then his eyes narrowed. "You know _him_?"

"House." She smiled charmingly at him. "_Obviously_ I must know Robert. We are _here_, together."

Chase was starting to get worried as the expression on the older man's face darkened. He'd never seen House so angry, and yet House wasn't yelling.

Cuddy frowned; generally the longer House silently fumed, the bigger the explosion.

House continued, eyeing the younger woman piercingly. "How long have you known him?"

Eloise seemed to be the only one comfortable. She took her drink from Chase and gently slipped her hand under House's arm, shaking her head. "We haven't seen each other for almost a year, and the first thing you do is start questioning me about my choice in men. Honestly. Come with me, we need to go catch up." She led him away, and just like that the potentially dangerous situation was over. Chase and Cuddy were left standing next to each other in the bar.

"She's pretty." Cuddy remarked.

Chase nodded. "Yeah."

About an hour passed, mostly in pleasant conversation, when the thing that Eloise had been dreading happened.

"You've been avoiding me." A man said, coming up behind her. She turned to face him.

"Dr. Steward." Eloise nodded stiffly.

His brows pulled together at her cool tone. "This is how you want it to be?"

"Excuse me." She tried to go around him but he blocked her way.

"You can't keep ignoring me." He protested. "C'mon, this is so childish. We're meant to be together– surely you feel it too."

"I don't. Now move."

He followed her step as she once more tried to slip around him. "If you had moved on you would have found a boyfriend already. When was the last time you had a date?"

Her eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business, but to answer your question, I have a date right now."

"Is there a problem?" Chase asked before Dr. Steward could retort. He'd seen Eloise growing distressed and came to run interference.

"Who are you?" Steward asked angrily.

"Dr. Robert Chase." Chase stuck his hand out, which Steward grudgingly accepted.

"Dr. Michael Steward. I don't remember seeing you around the hospital."

"I work at Princeton Plainsborough."

"I see." He turned to Eloise. "So he's your date?"

"It shouldn't matter to you." She started to walk away with Chase when Steward grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"What's the matter with you?" Steward frowned.

She flinched. "You're hurting me."

Chase grabbed his arm and tried to extract Eloise from his grip. "C'mon man, let her go."

Steward all but bared his teeth. "Back off."

Chase managed to get her free. "Just leave her alone, I think she's made it clear what she wants."

A solid fist connected to his face and Chase went down. As the people around them fell silent, Eloise slapped Michael, hard.

"How dare you!" She gasped at him. "Just… I can't _believe_ you!" Turning her back on him she helped Chase off the floor, who was blushing furiously at the incident; already a crowd was starting to gather. His cheek was an angry red and throbbing; it was going to leave a nasty bruise.

Michael grabbed her wrist again as they started to leave. "No! I– I can't believe you. We had it so good together and you're going to throw it all away for what? _Him_? Some…"

"Let go of me. Now."

"No! You will hear me out–"

Before Michael had a chance to finish Chase quickly extracted Eloise from his grip and efficiently punched him out.

Straightening his jacket, Chase turned to Eloise, who was looking slightly shocked at the downed figure. "I think it is time to leave."

--

He was watching them from the bar. He was not happy. Chase was getting in too much trouble for this girl. First the meeting with that cripple Chase worked for, and now with this strange man, who had the gall to hurt His boy. Chase and that girl left right after the altercation, and that man left shortly after. He put down His drink and followed the man.

No one got away with damaging His kid.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 3**

Chase woke up to unfamiliar surroundings. As his mind grappled with sleep he became aware of someone laying against him on the couch. Slowly looking down he saw the peacefully sleeping Eloise nuzzled up next to him, her hair loose about her shoulders, her shoes on the floor. Memories of the evening after the party came back to him and he smiled at the small form. Looking at the clock he realized he would have to be going to work in two hours. If he was careful he could leave without waking her; he'd gotten enough practice sneaking out with Cameron. Carefully he scooted away from Eloise and laid her back against the cushions, then moved to the edge of the couch. He put his feet on the ground, and was about to stand up when she started to stir.

"Mmm, wha's going on?"

"Shh. I was just leaving, go ahead back to sleep."

"Why?" She was still half asleep and blinked at him warily.

"I have to go to work."

She sat up. "I'll make some food."

"I've got food at home."

"I still owe you for rescuing me, the least I could do is give you some breakfast before you run off." She leaned forward.

"I think you paid me back last night. And then some." He said, indicating the now empty snack bowls and the blanket she had covered them with when he'd fallen asleep.

"Well then…" she stretched, "You owe me, and we can't have that. So why don't _you_ make _me_ breakfast?"

Chase smiled.

--

-_the night before_-

They had driven home in silence, both too embarrassed to talk about the night's events. When they finally pulled up to Eloise's apartment Chase stopped the car, and they sat in silence for a while.

"D'you want to come up?" she finally said to break the silence. He looked at her in surprise and she quickly amended, "I mean– you really need to put ice on that." She motioned to his eye and cheek, which were swollen and starting to purple.

"Sure."

Once they entered her apartment she made Chase sit while she checked his eye.

"That looks painful."

"It was."

"I'm sorry," she leaned in and kissed the spot tenderly. He liked the feeling of her soft lips against his skin, her gentle hands– even her smell. She smelled like raspberries. As she started to pull away he leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own. She stiffened slightly, eyes wide with shock; but Chase was gentle, his lips soft against hers. Her eyes rolled and closed as she relaxed and followed in kind, a breath leaving her. His hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, where they lifted to catch her face. Her hands moved to his neck. His blond hair was thick and soft, perfect for running her fingers through.

Their kisses started to get more and more urgent. "_Wait_…" she finally gasped against his mouth. "The ice… for your eye."

Chase shook his head, mouth moving against hers as he spoke. "Forget it."

"It'll swell shut." Gently she pulled back, her gaze soft. Her cheeks were flushed. "I'll be right back."

As she left his side Chase sighed and leaned back in the kitchen chair, running a hand through his hair.

What the heck had just happened?

The remainder of the evening was spent in her living room, eating pretzels and nuts and drinking cherry coke while they talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company.

The bad thing was that he found himself comparing her to Cameron the whole night through. Every time he noticed what he was doing he would try to stop, but he just couldn't help himself. Eloise was cool with talking as well as listening, whilst Cameron tended to try to take complete control– which meant that she was either talking about her own life and problems, or demanding that he talk to her about his 'feelings'. But he loved Cameron, and that went a long way. He just felt more comfortable with Cameron, and– he knew what to expect from her. By the time he and Eloise started to drift off he decided that while he would enjoy what ever the rest of this date had to offer, he would no longer go 'astray' from Cameron and he would try to pursue a more serious relationship with her. With that in mind his eyes slid shut of their own accord, and he drifted off to sleep.

--

"Well look who finally showed up."

"I'm half an hour early." Chase replied, checking the clock. "What are _you_ doing here?"

House narrowed his eyes in puzzlement at the blond doctor. "I work here."

"But… you're early."

"And you're late."

"No I'm not, it's only–"

"If I am here before you, then you are late."

Chase rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. Cameron and Foreman came in soon after and stopped dead when they saw House.

"A-are you early?"

"Why yes I am, and you two are right on time." House smiled at them, somehow managing to pull off a fake sincere grin. Chase rolled his eyes; he was late, but they were on time?

"Man, what happened to your eye?" Foreman asked in wonderment.

Chase was now sporting a very impressive black eye as a reminder of his evening with Eloise.

"I–"

"Bar fight." House interrupted before Chase could explain.

Cameron snorted disbelievingly and Foreman looked expectantly at Chase for the real answer.

"It was a misunderstanding." He said dismissively.

"And how did you end up having a 'misunderstanding'?"

"It isn't a big deal."

"Chase." Cuddy poked her head into the conference room. "My office. Now."

Chase nodded in resignation and followed her out. Foreman watched in surprise, and Cameron turned on their boss in concern and worry.

"You know what happened." She confronted.

House watched as Chase and Cuddy waited for the elevator. "Was that a question?"

"No."

"Ah. Well in that case you're right. I do." He limped out of the room and headed for the service elevator. Cameron and Foreman followed quickly.

"Where are you going?"

House put his finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. Cameron and Foreman both sighed and rolled their eyes before following him into the elevator.

"Did I say you could come?"

"We want to know what Cuddy has to say to Chase as well." Foreman stated matter of factly.

--

"How is your eye?"

"It's fine, thanks."

Cuddy motioned to the chair in front of her desk and Chase sat down uncomfortably; he knew why he was there.

"Look Chase," Cuddy sat down in her chair and folded her hands on top of her desk. "Normally I don't care what you do on your own time, but… _what were you thinking_?! Picking a _fight_ with a very respected Doctor in the _middle_ of a hospital convention. At least it was another hospital's convention, but still, do you know what that does to our reputation?"

"I'm sorry. It was a misunderstanding, and I can promise that it won't happen again."

"What on earth possessed you to punch Dr. Steward?"

"He did hit me first." Chase protested.

"So two wrongs make a right?"

"He was acting unstable and was hurting Dr. Peney. I did what I did to get her out of that situation."

Cuddy blinked, seemingly taken aback; she hadn't actually witnessed the fight, and so was unaware of Eloise's role in the event. "Oh, I– I see."

"I understand my actions were inexcusable, and I am very sorry for any damage I may have done to the hospital's reputation."

"No, no Chase. It's totally understandable. I will take care of this." Her look became soft. "You should get that looked at." She said, pointing to her own eye.

Chase nodded silently and moved to leave her office.

"Oh, and Chase," Cuddy called, and he turned back to her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blown up like that."

He gave her that smile of his, which was still brilliant despite the dampening effect of his black eye. "It's fine, Dr. Cuddy."

--

"Wow." House announced with a bright-eyed smile, impressed and amused.

"You were listening?" Chase asked in annoyance as he passed.

"_YEAH_ I was, and really I've got to say, _wow_. Spectacular performance back there."

"Have you ever heard of a 'private conversation'?"

"You got off scott-free for embarrassing the hospital _and_ you even got Cuddy to apologize to you. You're good."

Chase answered with a 'look', and House limped away, smirking. Cameron and Foreman both caught up to Chase.

"So. You suck up to Cuddy too. Who won't you suck up too?" Foreman asked as Chase quickly started to walk away, hoping to avoid their questions and comments.

"I don't suck up."

"That back there," Forman pointed back to Cuddy's office "Was blatant sucking up."

"It's what he was trained to do." Cameron stated.

Chase stopped and gave a look that resembled open-mouthed disbelief at his two colleagues, trying to figure out what their problem with him was. Especially Cameron. "I punched out a doctor in the middle of a hospital convention, and then I took responsibility for my actions. You have a problem with responsibility?"

Foreman frowned. "Hey, this isn't about us."

"You only took responsibility because you knew she'd let you off the hook." Cameron stated.

Maybe the whole going for a more serious relationship thing _wasn't_ such a great idea. Shaking his head with a sound of disgust he turned to head off to NICU, when he checked the clock and saw the time. He paused, and sighed. _Dang_.

Cameron flinched with surprise as a flying name tag barely missed her nose, on its collision course with the back of Chase's head, but she was even more surprised when Chase turned around and caught it.

House scowled from the doorway he'd been hiding in.

"Okay, how did you do it?" he demanded, limping out into the hall.

Chase looked at him with a poker face. "What?"

"Nametag; that's the second time you've caught it, even though it was thrown without warning, and you were facing the other way. And this time it looked like you were expecting it."

"Don't know what you mean."

"You stopped and sighed before you caught it. You knew it was coming. I want to know how."

"Ten thirty-five." Chase pointed at the clock on the wall. "You work on a schedule, and I've been catching these for a while. You only noticed because of yesterday."

"So I always throw the nametag at 10:35?" House frowned; he hadn't noticed this pattern before.

"You throw the nametag exactly thirty-four minutes and twenty-three seconds after you come in." Chase said, putting his hands and said nametag in his pocket.

"Twenty-three seconds?"

"Give or take." Chase shrugged.

"And you expect this to happen tomorrow?"

"No."

House blinked in mock surprise. "Oh, so when _will_ the nametag be thrown?"

"Either thirty-one minutes and hmm… forty-five seconds or thirty-six minutes and fifteen seconds. Probably the thirty-six."

"Why the thirty-six?"

"Because, you'd want to make me paranoid, waiting for the nametag to fly out of nowhere and hit me."

House glowered and limped away.

Cameron looked at Chase questioningly. "He's going to throw his name tag at you thirty-six minutes and fifteen seconds after he comes in?"

"Ten seconds. He'll try to surprise me." Chase said, the corner of his mouth lifting. A teasing, amused light sparkled in his eyes for a moment.

Cameron shook her head and started to walk away.

"Cameron."

She looked back at him, her gaze patient and tolerant.

"Can we talk? Later I mean."

"I'm kind of busy."

He tipped his chin. "Of course."

They both walked away from each other. Cameron headed back up to diagnostics. Glancing back, Chase watched her for a second, wondering how long he would have to wait for her to think of him as more than her Tuesday night microwave pizza. With a sigh he headed to the clinic.

--

He had decided that Chase was getting into too much trouble and forgetting the rules; it was time that He took a bit more control. Watching the blond doctor come to the check-in desk and flirt with the nurse at the station He felt a surge of anger; Chase was getting careless, acting like those popular jocks at school who flirted with all of the girls.

He saw the young doctor take the first folder off the desk and open it.

"Mr. Smith?" Chase called.

He stood up and smiled.

"Mr. Smith, would you follow me please?" His boy smiled pleasantly and motioned to the exam room.

Now was the time.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 4**

"Chase!"

About to enter the room with Mr. Smith, Chase turned around to see Cameron jogging towards him. "Yeah?"

She stopped by his side, an expression of apology on her face. "I blew you off before. I'm sorry. Do you want to talk now?"

"Now?" Chase glanced back at the exam room, then back at her. "I've got a patient."

"It's clinic, it's probably a cold." Her tone and expression seemed sincere, like she really did want to talk.

Chase checked his watch, thinking. He couldn't leave his patient after just calling him, but… "Can we talk at lunch or something? I mean–"

"House asked me to lunch." She interrupted him.

"Oh." Chase looked at her, surprised. So much for taking things a step further with her. "He asked _you_?"

"Yeah. It was a big surprise."

"I would be… You should be… " Chase couldn't bring himself to say 'worried' or 'careful' because that would upset Cameron, sending her into one of her 'I don't need protecting' moods. "Have fun." He said, and turned back to deal with 'Mr. Smith'.

"What did you want to talk about?" she pressed, taking a step forward.

"Nothing. It can wait."

"Oh. Okay." She paused. "Why were you at another hospital's convention?"

_Ah– so that's why she wants to talk_, Chase thought. "I was asked to go."

"Like a date?" her tone seemed casual, but there was a hint of something else…

"You could say that." Chase said. He felt a surge of annoyance when he saw a flicker of jealousy in Cameron's eyes– what did she think, she could go out with whoever she wanted but he couldn't go out with anyone?

She nodded. "That Dr. Peney you told Cuddy about?"

"Yeah. That Dr. Peney." He replied. "House wasn't too happy she was with me."

"House was there?" Cameron looked shocked.

"Yeah, with Cuddy." He was being mean, and he knew it. He could see the hurt in Cameron's eyes. "Kind of a shock to see them. Together. Outside of work. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

Cameron hurried off, muttering a barely audible: "I've got to go."

Somehow the feeling of satisfaction he thought he would feel didn't come. Chase watched her retreating form; he had meant to get back at her for going out with House, and given her expression he supposed he had. Still, it didn't feel like a victory.

Entering the exam room Chase opened the patient's folder and read the information: 'Mr. John Smith'. _Fake name_, Chase thought to himself. Big guy at six feet and seven inches, two hundred and seventy pounds. Complaining of a cold.

"So Mr. Smith, what seems to be the problem?" Chase asked as he turned his back to the patient to close the door.

Something shoved him forward into the hard surface of the door, the sudden pain in his bruised cheek and eye vanishing as the cold metal of a gun pressed against his temple. His pager fell off his belt and skidded under the counter.

"The problem is that you forgot your rules, son." The man hissed.

Guy's gotta be off his rocker, Chase thought, his bruised cheek throbbing. "All right– it's alright, why don't we–" he immediately regretted his attempts to pacify the man as he was slammed harder against the door.

"Shut it. It's obvious I can't trust you by yourself. I've got to teach you the rules. What it means to be a good son."

_What the_…?! "Look, this isn't neces–"

"Shut up." He pressed the gun harder against Chases head for emphasis. Chase squeezed his eyes shut. The man's voice was low, hot breath blowing against his ear. "We are going to go out of this room together, and you will sign out. You will be nice and quiet. Smile at the nurse on duty. We will then walk out of the hospital. Try to alert anyone, and I'll start shooting. The clinic is full. Lots of little kids. You'd hate to see them hurt. You understand?"

Chase nodded.

'Mr. Smith' moved back and hid the gun in the pocket of his jacket. "Lets go."

--

'Mr. Smith' kept back just enough to not look suspicious. Chase's hands were shaking slightly, whether from adrenaline or fear or both he couldn't tell. He couldn't believe that no one noticed them. Doreen, the nurse on duty was flipping through a magazine, sighing in her boredom. She barely acknowledged his presence as he signed out.

"Leaving so soon?"

"House paged." Was his answer, offered with an amazingly calm smile. He was impressed he could still talk; his throat felt so tight. He walked away and 'Mr. Smith' pressed close to him, his hovering presence a making the hair on the back of Chase's neck prickle. Then 'Mr. Smith' backed off. Chase looked behind to see why.

"Chase!"

Chase's heart jumped into his mouth and the bottom of his stomach dropped out. "House!"

House limped up to him. "Skipping out on clinic hours?"

_Help me– notice something's wrong– On second thought, get away House! There's a mad man behind me with a gun_! His lips felt dry as he fought to appear calm, his thoughts racing. "No."

House stopped right in front of his youngest duckling and eyed him. "You look pale."

Chase ducked his head and glanced to one side. "I'm fine."

"You don't look–" House stopped, his eyes catching movement, and his lips pursed. "Uh oh."

"House! Why aren't you in clinic?" Cuddy demanded as she marched through the lobby towards them.

"Chase stole my name tag." House announced without pause.

Chase numbly handed the nametag to House, painfully aware of a dark presence hovering just behind him. While House and Cuddy engaged in their usual 'discussion', 'Mr. Smith' came up again and bumped into Chase's left arm, pushing him forward. They managed to leave the hospital without further incident. Part of Chase felt relieved; no one got hurt– that was good. Yet he was being kidnapped by a crazy man! And no one noticed!

They made their way out into the parking lot, and now that they were away from people Chase frantically began to think of a way of escape. He could try running, but there wasn't much for cover. He'd be shot before he could get anywhere.

A sharp blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling, and just as darkness descended he was aware of 'Mr. Smith' bending over him.

--

_I can't move_! Were Chase's first thoughts as he started to crawl his way back to consciousness. The realization made him panic. Not only could he not move, but he couldn't remember why he couldn't move; and why was it so dark?

His eyes started to adjust to the dark: he was tied to a chair, and his hands were taped to the arms. His head hurt, especially when he tried to move it. Tape across his lips made his mouth feel extremely dry. Glancing around he was able to ascertain that the door was directly behind him, and he was in a… pantry? No, a closet– above his head he could see the rods for hanging clothes on. He heard footsteps behind the door, and his blood froze, the bottom of his stomach dropping out; all of a sudden the room felt too small. He couldn't breathe. His heart beat painfully fast as the door handle moved. He tried to will himself to breathe, but abandoned those efforts when the door opened. Screw being calm– panic! Panic was good! Panic was– No. Panic was bad. He had to be calm. Be calm.

"Calm down, Robbie. This is for your own good." 'Mr. Smith' said as he approached the bound man. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

Screw being calm.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 5**

House smiled when he heard the satisfying yelp of pain, telling him that the flying nametag had hit its mark. He _so_ did not work on a schedule. Chase said that he would throw it at thirty-six minutes and fifteen seconds? Well– he sure showed him: thirty-six minutes and ten seconds. HAH! The blond wombat obviously wasn't expecting that. House leaned way back in his chair, looking out to survey the damage.

Foreman glared angrily at him, rubbing the back of his head.

"What did you do that for?!"

House frowned, bouncing as his chair snapped upright again. "Where's Chase?"

Cameron shrugged. "His coat's here, maybe he's at ICU?"

"There was a bad car crash." Foreman offered. "The ER was pretty crowded, he's probably there."

Brows pulled together House thought for a moment, then he pulled his feet off of his desk and stood up, grabbing his cane. Without a word he passed his puzzled employees and went off to find his wayward duckling.

--

Chase shrunk back in the corner when he heard the footsteps in the hall. Last night had been one of the most horrifying nights of his life.

'Mr. Smith', whose real name was actually Edward, had spent all night screaming at him for being a disgrace to his 'father', for not being a good and honorable 'son'. Chase had been beaten and cut and shaken and… and… he shook his head, not wishing to replay the memories of last night.

He just was grateful that two hours ago he'd been thrown back into the closet, where he had just about passed out from the pain. He favored his right hand, which had been crushed by something heavy; right now he couldn't remember what. It was swollen and throbbing like crazy, and at least two fingers were broken.

He sighed and huddled closer to the corner, a shiver running through him.

Today was Friday.

He wondered if anyone at work noticed that he was gone.

--

"Have you seen Chase?"

Wilson didn't bother to look up from his paper work. "No, what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing is wrong with him. He's missing."

"ICU or ER. Not in my office." Glancing over a form, Wilson frowned.

"I looked in ICU and ER. Nada." The he paused. "Of course there were a lot of blondes so I couldn't be sure." A moment passed, and then House shook his head, all humor gone. "He isn't answering my calls or my pages."

"Neither do I." Wilson lifted a few pages, looked at what was underneath, nodded and then signed the form.

"But he is loyal. And hardworking. And OC, especially when it comes to tasks I ask him to do."

"ER has been swamped, with the rain today there've been a lot of accidents. Chase is probably busy."

House ignored him. "He looked really pale yesterday, and shaky. Not sick shaky, either. More like he was scared."

"A lot of people look like that around you."

"Will you stop with your stupid paperwork for a second and listen to me?" House snapped. Then he blinked. "Oh my gosh, I'm starting to sound like your second wife. Or maybe it was your third. No– no, it was your second. Dangit. She was the cow. You and your stupid papers are making me sound like a cow."

Wilson didn't even bat an eye. "Shame that."

"You don't care about Chase, do you?" House accused.

"Do you?" Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"'Course." House looked affronted.

"He's probably fine. Overworked and mentally abused, but healthy and safe. Wait…" Wilson suddenly looked up with wide eyes, and then a grin began to slowly spread across his face. "You care. Oh my gosh– you admitted to caring about some one."

House blinked innocently. "Did not."

"Oh you so did."

"Did not." House pouted, looking like a spoiled eight-year-old despite the scruffy beard. "I didn't admit to anything."

"Too late now House. You cared."

House stuck out his tongue at Wilson. "Do not. He could be lying beaten and bleeding to death somewhere, and I would not care."

--

Edward had smelled like gin when he opened the door and staggered in. Chase had made himself as small as possible in that little corner of his, but that did little; within moments Edward had him. This time– this time was more violent. Last time Edward had been intent on punishing Chase for his 'sin' by beating him; this time was all about how much Edward could hurt him. He had treated Chase like a medieval prisoner, torturing him for the sake of it.

Edward had obviously been drinking quite a bit of beer besides the gin. There was broken glass everywhere, and the dropped and forgotten bottles almost seemed to wait for him to fall on them as they lay on the floor, sparkling with dangerous beauty in the light. Chase fingered the particularly deep cut in his side. Combined with the one on his leg and the stab wound on his shoulder, he knew he would bleed to death before long– long before anyone would find him. And all he could do was lie still, waiting.

He briefly wondered if House would care.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

  
**

**Chapter 6**

The first thing Edward noticed when he opened the closet door, his breath stinking of alcohol, was that his blond doctor was very pale. The second was that he wasn't moving. Didn't even respond to the drunken yet forceful nudge to the stomach with the toe of a shoe. Bending closer, he realized that Chase didn't appear to breathing. Fumbling around with the pale wrists in a clumsy fashion, Edward couldn't find a pulse, and in horror he dropped the limp arm.

"Oh no–" He moaned, his words slurring. "I killed him."

--

The sound of a shovel hitting the nearly frozen ground disturbed the chill calm of the day. It was early Saturday morning. Nobody was supposed to be up and about yet.

But there were Saturday morning cartoons to watch and former obsessions to bury.

Two young boys were, as quietly as possible, fixing their ritual Saturday morning bowl of highly sugared chocolate covered cereal that went with the watching of mindless animals blowing things up. Partway through pouring milk on the sugary goodness, they froze when they heard a steady thumping outside. Glancing at each other they crept to the window and knelt down, pulling a corner of the curtain aside. As they peeked out the window they saw 'Crazy Mr. Anderson' digging in his backyard. Next to him was something long, all wrapped up in trash bags.

The boys looked at each other with wide, horrified eyes. Sam and James had seen horror movies. They knew what was in those bags.

They bolted up the stairs, gasping in fear. "MOM!! DAD!!" They screamed as they ran up to their parents' room.

Muttered words and mumbles were heard and their mother opened the door, disheveled and still half asleep. "What is it?" she asked, looking at them with one eye cracked open.

"Mom! Mr. Anderson is burying a body in his backyard!" James exclaimed.

Their father muttered something about letting those boys watch too much TV. Their mom sighed. "Boys…"

"MOM, we're serious. Look." Sam pointed, and he and James grabbed their tired mother's hand and pulled her to the window.

"_Please_. Jim, Sam, you really need to learn–" She stopped mid sentence when she looked out of the hall window and saw Mr. Anderson burying something in his back yard– something that looked suspiciously like– "Oh my gosh." She muttered, and called over her shoulder. "Honey, I think you should see this."

"For Pete's sake woman… It's five-thirty and you want me to spy on my neighbors?"

Mr. Anderson started to pull whatever was wrapped in the trash bags into the hole; the way it limply dropped over the hole's edge– She felt her heart leap into her throat. "I think we should call the cops."

The boys' father muttered as he pulled himself out of bed and made his way to his wife's side. He immediately frowned at what he saw. "Ah… yeah. Yeah we should."

--

He was being crushed… smothered. Chase struggled against the black plastic that wrapped around him, but it felt as if the weight of the earth was pressing down on him. Clawing with cold-numbed fingers he soon discovered that it _was_ the weight of the earth pressing against him as the plastic finally tore and dirt hit his face. Blind with panic he continued clawing upwards. He was lucky it had been so cold last night. The ground had been frozen, making it difficult to dig deep, or pack the dirt back down. All that didn't matter as Chase started to run out of air. His vision started to gray around the edges; he felt so… tired… His hands were still clawing at the dirt above him, hard clumps of dirt that hurt his fingernails. And suddenly his left hand felt a breeze, a cool refreshing breeze. But… he was so… so tired… He had to sleep… He couldn't…

As he drifted off he became aware of a voice. Angels? No… angels didn't sound like Detective Tritter. And demons would never sound like Tritter panicking. That voice… too bad to be one, too good to be another…

--

Eloise smiled at the nurse at the front desk, gripping her resignation letter tightly in her hand. It was early yet. The boss was not in. Out of sight of the nurses and staff she slipped into his darkened office and strode purposefully to his desk. She set the envelope on top of the chair; there. Now it was official. She only had two weeks left. No more dealing with Dr. Steward; no more dealing with those stupid gossiping nurses. She sighed with relief, leaving the office and entering the brightly lit hall. After a year she could finally move on. _Thank you, Dr. Chase,_ she whispered in her head. _I owe you one._

Her pager went off, shaking her from her musings. Trauma patient, ER. She took off in a dead run.

--

"He's not breathing!" One of the nurses shouted.

Eloise skidded into the room, her eyes instantly taking in the scene before her. "Move." She checked his airway; his face was covered with bruises and blood dirt. "We need to intubate."

"His internal body temperature is way too low. He's in hypothermic shock."

"It's keeping him from bleeding out; the blood's frozen over the wounds."

"Close up those wounds now. He'll be heating back up soon."

"He's breathing on his own. You can take that tube out."

"Why the heck is there so much dirt?"

"Aw– oh my g… What on earth happened to this guy?"

They eventually got the patient stable. Blunt force trauma to the head and abdomen. Stab wounds. The patient had been beaten repeatedly, gone into hypothermic shock and then buried. Leaning against a counter Eloise took a deep breath, savoring the brief moment of respite. The patient's file was next to her, so she picked it up and looked at it. What it said made her press her lips together and give her head a small, sad shake. Who would do that to another person? She realized that she didn't even know who the victim was. It wasn't on the report, and there hadn't been any form of identification on him when he'd been found. She hadn't even really looked at his face. She'd been too busy with the rest of his body.

The nurse was busy sponging the dirt and blood from his face. She looked tired; Eloise remembered that she had worked all night. Her shift was supposed to have ended several hours ago.

Setting down the report Eloise straightened up and stepped over. "Here. I'll finish that." She said quietly. "Why don't you take a break?"

The nurse smiled gratefully. "Thanks." She said, brushing back her dark braids. She'd been on her way out when the commotion had begun, and had only stayed to help the patient. "I'll see you Monday, Dr. Peney." Then she left.

Eloise sat on the edge of the bed and re-wet the sponge. Gently wiping the man's face, brushing a strand of blond hair from his forehead, she was taken by how beautiful he was. Even though his face was covered in bruises and his nose was probably broken he was still a stunning man. And he seemed so familiar…

Eloise nearly dropped the sponge as she gasped.

"_Robert_?"

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 7**

"So Ma'am, you know the victim?"

Eloise crossed her arms and tipped her head, sighing pointedly. They were in one of the hospital's conference rooms, the only place they could be alone. "_Tom_."

The assistant detective who'd been assigned the case looked up at her sheepishly. With his blue gaze and young face he looked far too young to be on the force. "Sorry Elly." He apologized. "If it's police business– ya' know, we have to be formal."

She smiled wearily at him, nodding in understanding. They'd been friends for a while, since she'd had to call the station a couple of times with problems with Michael. "If you want to be formal you're supposed to use my formal title."

"Doctor?"

"Yup."

"That just sounds weird."

She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "So drop the formal stuff."

The detective raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. Elly, how do you know the victim?"

"We went out once. Thursday night."

His eyes lit in recognition. "You mean he was the one that…"

"Yup." The corner of her mouth lifted in a rueful smile. "He was the one that punched Michael."

Tom shook his head with a grin. "Lucky guy."

She looked down at her hands. "Not so lucky." She said quietly.

"Well." He sighed, looking down at his notes. These sorts of cases always made him feel awkward. "I've got the medical report, and all the personal information you could give. I need to call his employers. D'ya know who I should–"

"Can I… deal with his employers?" she asked. "I mean, do they really have to know?"

"Elly, uh…"

Her eyes pled with him. "Look, you know his boss. Dr. House?"

Tom snorted.

"He's going to make Robert's life a nightmare. And after what he's been through… Don't you think he should have the right to choose who knows about this?"

"Elly. Really, don't do this to me." He warned, but he sighed when she gave him her puppy dog eyes. "How would you explain the injuries?"

"Car accident. You would even be able to get his information."

"This is against the rules." He warned.

"Tom…"

"I can't say no to you."

She beamed, her relief evident. "You are amazing."

"But!" He held up a finger. "But you _have_ to call his bosses. You get the relevant information and give it to me. And you me–" he pointed between them. "Never had this conversation. I don't know nothing about what you told them and where the records came from. We could get the case thrown out if I lied in my investigation." He shook his head. "And you are guilting me about what this guy deserves– this guy does _not_ deserve to have that monster who did this to him go free."

"Alright." she nodded. "Thank you so much, Tom."

--

"Eloise! Hey! _Dr. Peney_!"

Eloise froze; the boss had finally come in.

"What is the meaning of this?" Her boss, a large, beefy, red faced man with a poor diplomatic attitude held her two week's notice in his hand.

"I think I clearly explained everything in the letter."

"You– you can't just give… Why do you want leave?"

She sighed and turned around and began listing all of the different reasons. "I can't stay here anymore: the gossiping and back-biting has finally got to me. I can't work with Dr. Steward: he's a pig and won't leave me alone. I have a few personal issues I need to deal with, and I can't do that if I'm also trying to deal with this place."

"If you have issues with people here maybe you should try working them out. However, I accept your resignation. But," he narrowed his eyes at her and drew himself up. "You can just forget about me giving you any sort of recommendation. I don't approve of people who run away from their problems."

Eloise smiled ruefully. He was not going to be missed. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sir. I wish we could have parted on better terms. How's the wife?"

She was always surprised a human could go that red and not burst something.

--

Dr. Cuddy frowned over her paperwork, trying to make her way through the mounds of forms and files that had somehow accumulated in her in-box. So deep in concentration was she that the sudden ringing of her phone made her jump. Shaking her head at herself, she picked up the receiver. "Dr. Cuddy."

"_Hello. Dr. Cuddy? I'm Dr. Peney from Princeton General. We met at the convention– I was with Dr. Chase_."

"Oh, yes. Hello. How can I help you?" Cuddy absently continued reading the paper in front of her.

"_I'm actually calling about Dr. Chase_."

Her ears pricked up. "What about Dr. Chase?" she asked curiously, looking up from her work.

"_It appears he was in some sort of accident_."

Cuddy mouth opened in a silent gasp.

"_We'll know more when he wakes up. We were just informing you we need his medical records_."

"No– you won't need his records. We'll have him transferred here." Cuddy stated with a tone of finality to her voice. Obviously they were better equipped to treat him, and this was Chase's place of work.

"_I don't think that is an option Dr. Cuddy. Dr. Chase is not in a stable enough condition to be moved right now. And I believe that he would appreciate some privacy in the whole matter_."

Cuddy felt a prick of indignation; she didn't like the tone of authority in the other woman's voice, not when it came to one of her doctors. Then she paused– why would Chase 'appreciate privacy in the whole matter'? "Then when he is in a stable enough condition, I believe it would be best that he is treated here– by people he knows and works with."

"_When he regains consciousness he can make that decision for himself_."

Cuddy acquiesced that he might appreciate having a choice, but the insinuation that he might not want to come didn't sit well with her. "Alright. I do suppose that is for the best."

"_It is. On that point I would also like to request that you do not inform Dr. House about this incident_."

"Dr. House is Dr. Chase's employer. I have to let him know."

"_I know Dr. House. Dr. House does not believe in privacy. He really doesn't understand the whole personal boundaries concept, and I would really prefer that Chase be allowed some peace, at least for now_."

Well– she had a point there. Cuddy certainly wouldn't want House to know if she were in an accident; as long as it wasn't serious. And House would never let Chase recover in peace. "Fine. So what am I supposed to tell him?"

"_You'll figure something out. Vacation? Sick leave_?"

They chatted a bit more. Chase's medical records were to be faxed over, and they had come up with an explanation that they hoped would satisfy the ever-curious diagnostician.

When Eloise was finally able to hang up she leaned back and sighed, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. As it fell around her face she ran a hand through her hair. She was exhausted.

Wandering back to the ICU where Chase had been moved she looked in, leaning against the doorframe. He was still asleep. His injuries were much more visible now that he had been completely cleaned up; he looked so vulnerable now. She felt suddenly that she had to protect him, that he was her responsibility.

She sat down on the edge of his bed. They'd only spent one night together– technically speaking– but spending that time with him had given her the confidence to finally leave this place, to finally break away from all things Michael Steward and move on. She took his left hand; his right had been badly smashed and broken. Brushing away a bit of hair that had fallen across his face, mindful of his nose, her eyes held him softly.

"I won't let you go through this alone. I owe you so much." She whispered.

His eyelids flickered in response. His heart rate went up. He was waking! Eloise checked the monitors as he stirred. He mumbled something, and then his eyes flicked open.

She held his hand again, seeing the terror in his eyes as he tried to figure out where he was. His heart started to race as he looked around, lost and confused. His breathing became ragged. Still holding his hand she pressed a cool hand to the side of his face, leaning close.

"Chase! Chase, listen… Robert."

He stopped and started to calm when she said his name; his eyes turned to her.

She kept her voice calm and quiet. "You're alright. You're safe now. Do you understand?"

He nodded briefly. His heart rate was still elevated but his breathing began to return to normal.

"Do you know who I am?"

He nodded again. "Eloise." His voice was raspy and thin, and he winced as he spoke.

She smiled at him reassuringly. "Yeah. It hurts to speak, right?" he nodded. "We had to intubate you. It'll get better after awhile. Just nod or shake your head until then." She kept her hand on his. "Do you remember what happened?"

His eyes looked haunted, and he slowly nodded again. She pressed her lips together sadly, and then she also nodded.

"Right now, we told your bosses that you were in an accident. They don't know any of the details yet." She said. "House doesn't know any of it. I wanted you to decide what they know and when." There was a moment of silence. "Is there anyone you want me to call to be with you?"

He shook his head, but his fingers curled around her hand, his split lips thin.

She brushed her thumb over his fingers. "Don't worry." She reassured. Her voice was soft. "I'm staying with you till the end. You're safe now."

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 8**

Strange surroundings assaulted his senses as he woke up– sharp, sterile smells, bright lights, rhythmic beeping– Trying to contain his confused panic Chase looked around, taking in the sounds and smells and sights: hospital. But not his hospital. He started to lift his right hand and discovered that he could not move his fingers or wrist– they were immobile. Looking down he saw that his hand was cocooned in plaster and gauze. What about his left hand? There was a weight on it too. Turning his head slightly on the pillow he saw the smaller hand that grasped his. The smaller hand that was attached to the sleeping body of Eloise. She was sitting in a chair, bent over so that her head and free arm rested on the bed, close to his hand. Chase frowned for a second, lifting his head a little. How did she get there? His frown deepened as he struggled to think back, and then he remembered… he'd woken up before, and she had been there… and… He groaned as his head fell back, the force of his memories knocking him back.

His moan stirred Eloise who quickly woke up. Lifting herself she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the sleep from her eyes. When she realized he was awake she relaxed.

"Hey there." She smiled softly at him, and he weakly reciprocated, though he refrained from saying anything just yet. His throat hurt too much.

Eloise pushed a piece of loose brown hair behind her ear as she sat up. "How are you feeling?"

Still reeling from the assault of memories Chase closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes softening in sympathy.

"It's just that… It's really…"

She squeezed his hand again, wincing at the hoarse sound of his voice. "I get it. It's… it'll be hard to talk about."

He nodded. They were silent for a moment, both waiting for his mind to clear. Finally he opened his eyes and took a deep breath, his expression now composed, and he turned on the pillow to look at her. Licking his lips he asked, "What's the damage report?"

There was a glimmer in her eye, recognizing his move to distance himself, so she played along. "There was limited internal damage. You lost a lot of blood, but… _thankfully_… it was so cold outside that the blood froze on your skin, acting as a temporary clot. Here is your chart." She put his folder on his lap; she was still holding his relatively undamaged hand and it appeared that he had no intention of letting go anytime soon, which was fine with her. "We can release you this afternoon, but you need someone to stay with you for a while." She paused. "Is there someone you want us to call?"

Chase shook his head, looking down at the folder in his lap with lips pressed tightly together.

"What about Dr. Cameron?"

His eyes widened. "No. You can't call her." What would she think of him– she already thought of him as a pansy, and now? After what happened to him? She'd be disgusted, or worse yet she'd pity him. Cameron-pity was not something he wanted. Not now.

"Alright." Eloise nodded, though she squinted one eye in puzzlement as she studied him. She had thought that Cameron would be the first person he's want to call, given his feeling for her. "But we need someone to stay with you for at least a week. Maybe more." She looked at him pleadingly; there had to be at least one person. He was young, nice, and hot. Definitely one of the sexiest men _she'd_ ever met. He had to have at least one friend! But he looked down away from her, averting his eyes, and she realized that– he didn't. She felt a pang, and just like that came to a decision. "Listen. Normally I wouldn't do this, but– I handed in my two weeks notice yesterday. And the two weeks thing _is_ just technical. If you want me to, I'll leave early and stay with you."

He looked up in surprise. "You don't have to..."

"You told me you don't have anyone else. And I want to."

A look of intense gratefulness entered his eyes, but he was still hesitant. "Why– did you quit?"

"I have you to thank for that." She smiled at him, the corner of her mouth pulled up teasingly. Glancing down he mumbled an apology. She quickly amended the statement. "I was stuck here. I couldn't move on. I was afraid. And you, just by being there– by being you– helped me get past that."

His look was questioning, but he accepted her answer. He had too many emotions fighting inside of him to press further, and the pain medication wasn't making thinking any clearer.

"Your boss, Dr. Cuddy, gave you a week off to recover. After that you'll be working half days until Dr. Travis says you can go back full time. Dr. Travis will be assigned your case when I leave." Eloise leaned in ever so slightly, confidentially. "She's a real sweetheart, and a real good friend of mine."

"House won't let me have a week off, and he doesn't do 'half days'." He rasped quietly.

"I think I can persuade House to do half days. And he'll leave you alone for this week. I've got him distracted." Her mouth quirked in a sideways smile, her eyes twinkling. "Perfumed anonymous love notes to Wilson. It'll keep him busy for at _least_ a week."

Chase stared at her, and then a slow smile spread across his face. If House was distracted by Wilson's love life he would probably not even miss Chase.

That thought sobered him quickly; _would_ anyone miss him?

--

House grumbled all the way to the hospital. Cuddy had called him and his team in on an emergency: some rich donator had collapsed during a conference and his team had been assigned. Why some other doctor couldn't take the case was beyond him.

"H'Ookay. Boring case, old man, seizure. Differential." He turned his back to his ducklings to study the whiteboard.

Cameron and Foreman stared.

"That's it?" Cameron asked.

Foreman shook his head. "It could be anything."

House turned back to the other doctors and made an 'I'm waiting gesture', then stopped and frowned. "Where's the other one?"

Foreman's brows scrunched.

Cameron stared. "Huh?"

"_You_ complain about how it's not enough, _you_ complain that it's too much, and the blonde one plays along with whatever I say. It's the only way anything moves along around here." House explained.

"His jacket is here." Cameron pointed.

"Unless his jacket is making a differential diagnosis, I don't care. If it is, then… well…" House frowned thoughtfully. "That would just be _weird_, but at least helpful."

Foreman shrugged. "Maybe he's with the patient."

"And maybe he is wrangling kangaroos, but what we know definitely is that he is _not here_. And the patient is sick. And…" House looked at the patient's folder again. "It is Adult GM1 gangliosidoses. Biopsy his liver and come back to tell me I'm right."

He hobbled out of the room. Even though it was the weekend Wilson had come in to deal with a patient who was having problems with the new treatment he'd put her on. Wilson would help him with his wombat problems.

"I have a patient." Was the immediate response as he entered the room.

House stopped by the desk and loomed over the two seated at it. "It's a life or death situation."

Wilson looked at him disbelievingly. "Whose?"

"You're questioning a life or death situation? How heartless are you?" Wilson still stared at him. "My wombat got loose." The patient who'd been sitting at Wilson's desk looked up confused. House winked. "Don't worry, it doesn't bite. Help me find it _now_, Wilson."

Wilson apologized to his patient and excused himself. "We'll reschedule for tomorrow." He promised. Then he glared angrily at House as he walked outside onto the balcony with him.

"Have you seen Chase?" House asked.

"No, I haven't seen Chase." Wilson answered patiently. "Perhaps he has the day off and is spending it like normal people? _Away_ from work. It's a Sunday."

"His coat is here."

"So he left it here."

"No."

"What? It's possible."

"Nope."

Wilson narrowed his eyes and pointed at his friend. "You want there to be some mysterious reason so you can mess with Chase. But there isn't. He left his coat, probably because he was in a hurry to get away from you. He's probably enjoying his day off. And you really need to leave him alone."

House huffed in annoyance, then returned to the problem at hand. "He isn't answering my pages."

"He's learning."

House rolled his eyes and Wilson went back into his office. House followed him. "It's wrong."

"It's normal. You treat him like a dog, running him up and down and into the ground with errands and odd jobs that don't really need doing. Sooner or later he _is_ going to start ignoring you. It's like the boy who cried wolf."

"Or the Doc who called Wombat." House added flippantly.

Wilson shook his head, picking up some papers. "Whatever. Just let him be for a day. You can bother him on Monday."

House was about to come up with a retort but the words died in his mouth. A pink envelope was lying on Wilson's desk, unopened and unaddressed, and… House sniffed; he could smell it from here. Perfumed. He grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket.

"You're right. Bye."

"Whoa, stop." Wilson squinted at House. "What happened?"

"You're– right?" House put on his best innocent face. That made Wilson suspicious.

"What did you do to my desk?"

House gave an evil smile and sauntered out of the office. Wilson would be occupied for a while trying to find the non-existent booby trap, per past experiences with his crotchety friend. Plenty of time to figure out what was in the envelope.

--

Eloise walked into his room, smiling. "Things worked out. You'll be able to go back home this afternoon if I go with you. You also have to sign up for at least two Psychologist appointments a month. Just for a while." She tipped her head. "How're you feeling?"

Sitting up in his bed eating jello, Chase glanced at the room and then made eyes to emphasize his desire to be gone. "I just can't wait to go home."

She nodded. "Well, you can sign out soon. Dr. Travis will be coming in to talk with you and then we should be able to go."

Chase sighed and tipped his head back into his pillow; he was tired of being talked to, tired of being a patient, tired with everything in general.

He appreciated Eloise's efforts to make everything easier; he wondered what Cameron would do if she'd been his doctor instead. She'd probably treat him like a regular patient, but give him a nice helping of pity on the side. He was suddenly glad he was at Princeton General. He could barely stand his situation as it was, and the only thing holding him together were the nice painkillers that made everything fuzzy. Add Cameron pity and no amount of painkillers in the world would make things seem even remotely close to all right.

Dr Travis came in. She smiled politely before going into detail about his treatment and what sorts of prescriptions and therapy he would have to take to physically heal. Chase sat in his bed and listened closely, nodding every one in a while.

The final tally on the injuries he sustained from his two day of captivity were this: a broken nose, a dislocated right shoulder, a hairline fracture in his right ankle, a torn ACL in his left knee (sustained from struggling with Edward during one of the beatings), compound fractures of the third and fourth metacarpals and proximal phalanges in the right hand, a three inch stab wound right above his left clavicle, a seven inch gash on his left side. On his left side the fourth, fifth, and sixth ribs were bruised, and on his right side the third rib was fractured, and the fifth, sixth and seventh ribs were bruised. He had a five-inch laceration on his left leg, and a minor concussion. He had various and wide spread contusions and minor lacerations, and minor internal damage. Luckily for him, they had managed to complete any required surgery soon after he'd been brought in.

He would be confined to a wheel chair for a few days, and crutches for several months, and he would require months of physical therapy afterward. Dr. Travis went on for a long time on what sort of therapy he would have to undergo and what he would and would not be able to do… and so on. Chase listened to it all, growing angry and frustrated that he was not able to just move on and ignore what happened. Able to just pretend that everything was normal. Finally Dr. Travis left, and he was able to stew in his own thoughts undisturbed.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 9**

"And once you sign this, you're done." Dr. Travis said kindly as she handed Chase the final release form. He was able to awkwardly sign it with his left hand, the same way he'd signed the million other forms. As he frowned in concentration, he thought it was very inconsiderate of hospitals to force patients to sign forms when their writing hand was incapacitated. Of course fate itself was especially inconsiderate– allowing people to break their writing hand in the first place.

As Dr. Travis left with her mound of forms, Eloise arrived. She'd dressed down: her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a soft pink headband, a large sweatshirt and worn jeans. "Hey," she smiled, stepping into the room with a large shopping bag. "I got you some clothes." Pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of too-big sweatpants with side-pockets she held them up. Seeing him glance at the pants she looked down at them herself. "They are supposed to be big," she said. "It makes them easier to get into; besides, they're more comfortable this way." She motioned to her own oversized sweatshirt.

Chase nodded gratefully. "Thanks."

Eloise laid out the clothes on the bed, but she let him get dressed on his own, only helping right before he really needed it, puttering around the room when he didn't.

He appreciated that, the small independence she was encouraging while at the same time making sure he didn't get into a hopeless tangle and become frustrated. Once more he found himself wondering what Cameron would have done. She would have dressed him completely. And while his working arm was tangled in the shirt and he was at her mercy, she would have found it the right time to start asking questions about his ordeal. He shook his head. Again he was extremely thankful for Eloise. There would be no hope for him and Cameron if they had to be together for this.

When he was dressed Eloise helped him into the waiting wheelchair, though again she let him do most of the work himself and then she steered him out.

When they left through the front doors and moved out onto the sidewalk, Chase discovered that she had been busy with other things besides shopping. Through a series of phone calls and pulling favors she had managed to secure a wheelchair accessible van "for as long as she needed" or– as she said with a smile– until she destroyed those incriminating Christmas party photos she had managed to procure.

The drive was not short, but it wasn't long either, for which Chase was grateful. They were driving in a relatively easy silence, U2 playing in the background, when a morbid thought entered his mind.

"House will come to my apartment."

Eloise blinked, previously lost in the world of _With Or Without You_. Glancing at him she tried to follow his train of thought. "How do you figure?"

"You said you've got that distraction thing going on with Wilson. But he'll eventually notice when I don't come in."

"Cuddy will tell him something."

"And _that_ is when he'll come to my apartment." Chase said. "If I'm sick, he needs to get involved so he can torment me. If Cuddy tells him I'm on vacation, then it's the perfect time to go snoop through my stuff, so when I 'get back' he can torment me."

Eloise pulled the corner of her mouth to one side, frowning in thought. Then an idea popped into her head. "There's a lobbyist at your apartment right?"

"Yeah."

"D'you get along with her– or him?"

Chase nodded. "Yeah, he's a nice enough guy."

"Big guy?"

Shrugging, Chase eyed her curiously. "Yeah, I guess."

A girlish grin flashed across her face. "Perfect."

--

House was about to go crazy. The letter inside the pink, perfumed envelope had been written on thick handmade paper with pressed flowers, and had calligraphy handwriting. The person who wrote it thanked 'James' for the amazing evening they'd had and asked for an encore.

"Sick, sick woman…" House muttered under his breath. She'd just hinted at details of their date, and House had to use his imagination to fill them in. Time to go snooping; House smiled. He knew the perfect person for the job. He sent a page out and waited. And waited. Soon he realized that his blonde doctor was not going to come running to find out what the 'emergency' was. He wasn't even going to call.

Scowling he limped out of his office in search of someone who would help him find Chase so he could find out who that darn mystery woman of Wilson's was, so he could torment Wilson.

Cuddy was in. Of course she came in every day, even on a Sunday. House smiled; good ol' predictable Cuddy. He knew he could count on her.

"Where's Chase?" He announced, waltzing into her office without any warning.

Cuddy looked up, surprised. She had thought– hoped– that House wouldn't miss Chase until Monday. "He's taking some time off."

"Time off?" House's brows pulled together.

"Yes." she nodded. "He has a week off. And you can't bother him."

"I won't bother him." House stated. "I'm going to fire him. Why is he taking a week off?"

"Leave him alone."

"Why is he taking a week off?"

"He is… recuperating." With a look that said 'don't push it' Cuddy went back to the paperwork on her desk.

"Recuperating?" House looked nonplussed. "Recuperating from what?"

She sighed. "I'm sure _he_ can tell you when he gets back."

"You know, patience was never one of my strong points." House mused to himself, then he redirected his words to his boss. "You want him to get some rest, you should tell me why, now."

Cuddy folded her hands on the desk. "Deal without him, leave him alone and you'll get a week off of clinic."

"What's so secret that you would rather bribe me than tell me?"

"He doesn't want anyone bothering him, and I agree that he's better off away from you for a week." Cuddy replied. Her eyes narrowed. "Two weeks from clinic, and you get out of my office now."

"Three."

"Deal."

House smirked and walked out of her office with a cheerful bounce. He had sauntered a few steps down the hall before it caught up to him that he hadn't really gotten anything out of that encounter at all. It wasn't as if he did his own hours anyway, not when Chase was around. Oh well. Now that he had all this free time, he might as well go find Chase himself.

--

"And, you're home." Eloise helped Chase and his wheelchair get over the threshold into his apartment, and then she followed him in. It was a small apartment, more like a crash pad than a home, but it was comfortable and well lit.

"You can make yourself comfortable. Help yourself to whatever." Chase called to her as he wheeled himself into his room and shut the door. Eloise put her purse on the kitchen counter, waiting two minutes before following. Chase looked like he was trying to figure out the best way to get into his bed.

"I'm going to run down to the store, get some milk and stuff. Do you want anything specific?" She asked as she pulled the covers down and set it so it was easier to crawl into, all the while moving about like she was just doing something everyday. She acted like she hadn't noticed his predicament and Chase acted like he hadn't needed her help.

"No," Chase said. "Thanks though."

"I'll be back soon then."

"Could you turn off the lights?"

"Sure." Offering a smile, Eloise walked out of the room and clicked off the lights, but then she paused, waiting behind the door until she was sure he had been able to get into bed without a problem.

Chase sighed with relief when he heard the door to his apartment close, and he pulled the blankets close and shut his eyes. He quickly drifted off, helped by the painkillers from the hospital.

He shivered; the apartment had grown cold. He heard a creak, and his eyes shot open. Outside his bedroom door. Someone was here. In the dark his room seemed very, very small– almost like a closet. There! He was definitely sure that he heard a creak this time. Like a footstep outside his door. His heart thudded inside his chest and his breath came short. There were footsteps coming towards him. Heavy, angry footsteps.

Fear welled up in him, as well as a fierce instinct to survive– fight or flight. Chase pushed himself towards the edge of the bed away from the door, but he could still hear them coming. He managed to scoot himself off of the bed and onto the floor, and he edged into the far corner, clutching his right side and gasping through clenched teeth. The shooting pains from his injuries reminded him of what would happen once those footsteps got to him. He tried to make himself as small as possible. Maybe they would leave him alone. Maybe…

--

Eloise came back from the store less than fifteen minutes from when she left. She tried to come in quietly, expecting Chase to be sleeping, but the floor kept creaking no matter where she stepped. The apartment was terribly silent. As she emptied the bags and began to put things away she started to hum; she had never been comfortable with silence. Especially when she was alone.

Suddenly Eloise stopped; the apartment wasn't silent. She heard sound coming from Chase's room. But it was muffled– Crap.

She ran to his room. "Chase? Robert?" Opening the door she stepped in, and was met by an empty bed. "Chase?"

There was a slight movement in the far corner. Chase was huddled there, pressed into the corner as though trying to hide. His face was white and drawn, his breath coming in sharp bursts, and his eyes held a furious terror that sent a chill down her spine.

"Hey. Hey, you're all right, I'm here. You're safe." Eloise said softly, her voice almost a whisper as she approached him, her hand held out submissively. Slowly she lowered herself to her knees beside him, and he flinched away from her and her closeness. His breathing quickened, growing harsh. "Shh…" Reaching out Eloise caught him and held him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and setting a hand to the back of his neck. He jerked at her touch and strained against her hard embrace, and then he turned into her, pressing his face into the side of her neck, only occasionally making a sound when he drew in a heavy breath of air. "No one's going to hurt you anymore." She continued to whisper sweet nothings into his ear as the tension slowly left him and he grew calm, eventually relaxing completely. She held him still until he started to pull back, eyes closed.

Chase swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." She gently wiped his hair from his face as he leaned back into the wall. Her eyes were soft and concerned. "Did you hurt anything when you got off the bed?"

He shook his head, pressing a hand to his face to wipe away the treacherous evidence of his fear. Blowing out a long breath he dropped his hand and leaned his head back against the wall

She was gentle, the hand she'd used to brush his hair lowering to rest on his knee, her other hand curled tightly in her own lap. "What happened?"

For a moment Chase didn't answer. "He kept me in a room. In a closet." He finally said. "There wasn't any light and the door was always closed. I could always hear him moving around though, hear him coming. Telling me I'd been a horrible son– He kept calling me son–"

She cursed herself for her stupidity. She should have been expecting this, but as she had not pushed for any details she had no idea what could be a trigger. Her eyes were distressed. "I shouldn't have left you alone. I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." He mumbled.

She bit her lower lip. "Lets get you off the floor. Do you want to try to sleep? Or would you like something to eat?"

Glancing at the bed, Chase banished all thoughts of sleep. Sleep could come later. "Let's eat."

--

House strolled into the apartment building's lobby. All right; he had done this before. If he looked like he belonged, he could get past that largish looking lobbyist, who looked distracted anyway. He strode, as well as he could with his cane, to the elevators.

"Excuse me sir."

House stopped. Shoot. "Yes?"

"Who are you here to see?"

"Robert Chase."

"And you are?"

"Good friend of his, Eric Foreman." House lied; Foreman _had_ been talking about how he'd never been to Chase's house before a week ago. Hopefully the lobbyist wouldn't catch the 'disguise'.

The lobbyist raised his eyebrows. "Dr. Chase is away. But I will let him know you called."

"I have a key. He told me to come up and check on things."

"Dr. House, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

House looked at the man surprised. "My name is–"

The man cut him off. "I know who you are." He pulled up a picture from his desk. It was a snapshot of House doing something at the white board. Under the image was a note written in red marker: 'Under No Circumstances Allow This Man To Enter.' A large arrow pointed at his image and labeled him as Dr. House.

House smiled wryly; typical of Chase to pull something like that. "Alright. Look. I think we can come to some sort of agreement." He reached for his wallet.

"He promised to double whatever you offer me."

House paused, then put back his wallet. "You won't budge huh?"

"Nope."

"What about for–"

"Please get out, or I will call the cops."

"Look. Chase left these really important files in his apartment, and we need them for our patient. He'll die if we don't get the information from those files. Just let me get them and I'll leave."

"I can get them for you."

"You wouldn't know what they look like. C'mon give me a break, a man's life is at stake."

"I'll call Dr. Chase." The lobbyist picked up the phone.

House's ears pricked up. The person who answered was _definitely_ not Chase. He could hear the female voice.

"Dr. House is at the apartment lobby, he says that he needs to get some files for a patient there… I see… Alright… I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Dr. Chase." He hung up and turned to House, who cocked a sideways look at him.

"That wasn't Chase." He pointed out.

"You can't go up." The lobbyist said. Again.

"Hello! Man dying. What would Chase know, he's on vacation."

"I _will_ call the police to escort you from the building."

House sighed dramatically and turned around to leave. "I'll tell the man's widow and six children that we couldn't save her husband because of some pig headed lobbyist."

"You do that sir."

House turned to glare at the man and stalked out with as much of his dignity as he could salvage. He'd get Chase when he got back.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

  
**

**Chapter 10**

One thing about living with Eloise, Chase noticed, was that she brought a lot of sound with her. It wasn't a bad thing; in fact he rather liked it. She was constantly singing, humming, or whistling some tune or another. Good songs, though he didn't know half of them. And she wasn't loud either. She just filled up what used to be unbroken silence in his apartment.

She made him laugh a lot more than he ever had, too. Strange to think that after what happened he would ever be able to laugh again. But Eloise somehow managed to bring it out. She just said the right thing at the right time, had the strangest way of thinking, and she always seemed to be up to something. Always had that look of a young girl who had a secret she was dying to share.

That week living with her had also been one of the hardest in his life since his mother died. Sleep had not been his friend. Sleeping with the covers on reminded him of the smothering dirt, and sleeping without the covers left him cold and with memories of lying beaten and bleeding to death in that closet. It had taken a few days before they had been able to come up with a solution to that problem.

He stirred in his sleep, and the arm around his shoulders tightened comfortingly. The sharing of body heat. His head was cushioned on her stomach; she'd fallen asleep reading a book. He nuzzled back in; it was nice to be able to sleep with someone and not have anything expected of him. It reminded him of when he was young and used to have nightmares. His mother would sit with him, reading, until they both fell asleep.

This arrangement helped him to go to sleep, but it didn't stop the nightmares. He may have escaped physically, but Edward still held him captive in his dreams. Several times a night he would awaken in Eloise's arms, crying or ready to fight. He knew that he had flailed around in his dreams, trying to fight off his demons, and though Eloise denied it he'd probably gotten her once or twice.

And to add to his problems, there were the triggers. Things that could send him back to that place. Many of them were weird; smells were the worst. Dirt and alcohol were the strongest. Broken glass was bad too. Being touched from behind. Eloise had made that mistake once. He'd been reading and she touched him on his shoulder to get his attention.

Not good.

Since then Eloise made him initiate contact. She would make an invitation, maybe lean in a little closer, hold her hand a little towards him. Signs subtle enough he could ignore them if he wanted to and obvious enough for him to understand her intention. If he ignored them, she let it go, as if it had never happened. It was nice not to have anything expected of him.

Eloise came out of the bathroom, putting her hair into a ponytail. "You're going to work tomorrow." She said.

He looked up at her. "Yeah."

_Are you ready for it?_ She asked with her eyes. "What do you want for breakfast?"

--

"Chase is coming back tomorrow."

Wilson looked at House in surprise. They were enjoying their Sunday off by watching the game at House's house, as usual. Wilson hadn't expected House to remember Chase, or bring him up for that matter.

House looked insulted. "Why do you give me that look? Do you think I don't keep track of my employees? Particularly wayward ones?"

His friend shrugged. "No, it's just that… It's weird that you would bring it up, that's all."

"He's been on some sort of rehabilitating vacation. With a girl." House replied. Then he grinned maniacally. "I can't wait for him to get back so I can torture him about it."

Wilson blinked, his interest in the game wavering. "How'd you know he's with a girl?"

"His lobbyist called him. Woman answered."

"Lobbyist?"

"At his apartment. Would you believe that Chase gave him a picture of me with instructions not to let me in? Man knows me too well."

Wilson nodded. Then his brows drew together in thought; actually, that was a good idea. He briefly wondered how much he would have to pay the lobbyists in his hotel to do that. "Why were you at his… Never mind. Forgot who I was talking too."

"I was worried."

"Right." Wilson's expression was disbelieving.

"It doesn't feel right." House insisted.

"Sure."

"You don't believe me?"

Wilson snorted.

House sighed in frustrated defeat. "Fine. I was curious. About a lot of things… And now I'm even more curious. And I need to think of a way to get the Brit back for turning people I haven't even _met_ against me. I mean, an actual picture of me? Come on! Now," His attitude suddenly entirely different, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of panty hose he'd found in Wilson's desk, with a letter like the one he'd found at the beginning of the week. His eyes sparkled devilishly. "To whom do these belong to?"

--

Eloise sat at the table, finishing her supper of meatloaf, broccoli, and garlic bread. "So I'll come pick you up at one tomorrow." She said.

Chase nodded, done with his own food. He was sitting in his wheelchair, but he didn't need it anymore. As of today he was now in a walking cast and on a crutch. So far it had been all right, but walking hurt and burned like nothing else, and yet he had been ordered by Dr. Travis to start moving so that his muscles didn't stiffen. As a doctor himself he knew she was right, but using the crutch made him feel just how weakened and handicapped he was. That made him frustrated.

He was eager to get back to work, but nervous too. What was he going to tell people? Cameron especially. And House. Oh crap… House was going to be a pain. He suddenly didn't want to go back to work; at least not alone. Eloise was so good with House. He rolled the wheels of his chair, back and forth, back and forth… "How can you deal with House so well?"

"I grew up with him. He and my dad were friends." Eloise replied. Chase looked at her in surprise. "Alright, they were co workers, but decent to each other. I pretty much grew up at the hospital. Mom wasn't around, and I took a liking to House. Followed him around everywhere. He ended up more protective over me than my father. He nearly killed my prom date." She smiled at that memory.

Chase smiled at the image too. Very House-like.

"If I wanted a social life I had to learn how to distract him."

"What am I going to tell them?"

Eloise leaned back in her chair. "What are you comfortable telling them?"

"I'm not comfortable telling them anything."

"Then don't. But don't lie." She warned. "That's the worst thing you can do, House'll catch onto that immediately. Just don't tell them the whole truth, until you are ready. But… It would be good if you talked to somebody." Her voice grew quiet. "It's too hard to deal with this on your own."

He looked down at his lap, then back up at her, his face a mask. "I'm not dealing with it on my own."

"I don't count. You barely know me."

"You understand."

"Yeah, I do. But if you are going to have a long term relationship with someone, they need to understand, too."

"But–"

"Do you love Dr. Cameron?"

He blinked. "I don't know… yes."

"Then you need to let her in. She can help you more than I ever could."

He stared at her for a moment. "I'm afraid."

Her look was compassionate. "From what I understand Cameron is very good with feelings and that sort of stuff."

Chase looked away. "She loves broken people."

"You aren't–"

"Yes, I am. And I'm afraid she'll like me. Just because of what happened."

"If you love her, you need to trust her, trust her to love you because of who you _are_. What happened to you isn't _you_. It doesn't say anything about _you_. But… Just…" She sighed. "Talk to her when you are ready."

Chase nodded. Talk when he's ready; he wondered if he'd ever be.

--

"I thought I told you to keep away from the coffee maker." House scolded as he limped into the room, staring at Cameron.

She turned and blinked. "I'm sorry. Chase usually does it, but–"

"But since he's not here you thought you'd take over coffee duties?" House asked incredulously.

"I'm here." The soft Australian accent broke in.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-19 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 20+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 11**

They turned, and Cameron gasped softly. Chase calmly limped in, leaning heavily on a crutch, his right foot and lower leg in a walking cast, a brace on his left knee. His right arm was in a swing.

"Chase, what happened?"

"Forgot the safe word?"

Chase paled at that suggestion, but forced himself to ignore it. "I was in an accident."

House was about to push when Cameron interrupted. "I'm so sorry, Chase." Her eyes were wide with shock and empathy as she hurried over to hug him. Chase saw her coming and tried to prepare himself for the uninvited contact, but he couldn't help but flinch as her arms started to circle around him.

She jumped back. "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to–"

"No– I'm fine." He tried to placate her, pulling back half a step.

"I'm so sorry–"

"Not _everything_ is about you Cameron." Cameron turned on House at his accusing tone. "You squeeze his broken ribs and _you're_ t ready to cry. Go find some one else to hug for a while." When she shot a glare his direction he made shooing motions with his hands, unfazed. Tight-lipped she turned to leave, pausing a moment to gently touch Chase's arm. Then she was gone. There was a moment of silence. "You flinched before she touched you."

It was an accusation. "No, I didn't."

"Uh yeah, you did."

Chase closed his eyes as though praying for patience, and then sighed as if the conversation was pointless. "No, I didn't. Do we have a case?"

House decided to let the matter drop. For now. There would be time enough to get to the bottom of things, so he stored away the incident for further use.

"Chase!"

The blond sighed again, awkwardly turning to face the concerned fury. Cuddy stood in the doorway, an expression of painful concern and impatient tolerance on her face.

"Dr. Cuddy. Nice to see you again."

She pinned him with her eyes. "Why are you walking? Didn't you see the…"

"The nurse with the wheelchair?" Chase answered.

"Didn't she meet you at the elevator?"

"Yeah, she did, but I told her I didn't need it."

Cuddy stared, then shook her head. "Dr. Chase…"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not!" Her tone was soft but insistent. "Look, I'm glad you feel ready to come back to work, but I would feel better if you gave your ankle more time to heal so that it's set before you start walking on it."

His eyes squinted at her, brows pulling together. "Dr. Cuddy– no offense, but don't _we _make our patients, even if they've just had a knee replacement, get up and walk after just two days?"

"Yes we do." She nodded. "But I know you, Dr. Chase. You push yourself. Therefore, if you're here, you're in the wheelchair."

Chase looked at her in exasperation. "I'm not paralyzed."

"No," she agreed. "You're injured."

"Exactly. Injured. Meaning I'm not handicapped and this isn't permanent; meaning I'm healing and capable of moving around by myself."

"You have the terms." Her tone was still gentle, but there was a firmness to her eyes and voice that brooked no argument. "The wheelchair here at the hospital, for a week, or nothing."

He tipped his head. "Fine." He conceded. "But no more nurses waiting for me. I'll move to the chair when I get to diagnostics." He indicated the room.

Cuddy nodded, relaxing. "Deal." She offered him a smile, then looked over his shoulder at House. "Go easy on him." She warned.

House smiled. "Don't I always?"

--

"So what happened?"

"Accident."

Foreman nodded, seeming to accept Chase's explanation. "You weren't treated here?"

"Princeton Gen was closer."

"You could have transferred." Foreman was suspicious that there was more to this 'accident' than Chase let on. His injuries didn't seem consistent with a car accident.

"Yeah." Chase had had this conversation about ten times already with his co-workers. He was grateful that Eloise had made him practice his explanations before hand, so he was comfortable with his story. "There didn't seem to be much point. And with House… " He let it trail off; House didn't need an explanation.

Foreman nodded to show he understood. Just then his pager went off. Checking it he rolled his eyes, then excused himself and left.

"What do you want?" Foreman asked House in a nearby hallway.

"What did he say?"

"Same thing he told you. Accident."

"Why didn't he transfer? This place is better than Princeton Gen."

"Said there wasn't much point. And you."

House frowned. "Not much point? How does his story sound?"

Foreman looked at him in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"It sounds rehearsed. He's not lying, but he's not telling us the truth. Go keep digging."

"No way." Foreman raised his hand. "Look, I agree something's not quite right with Chase's story, but he doesn't want to tell us right now. And I'll respect that. I'm not going to–"

"House!" Cuddy cut Foreman off as she came into the hallway. "Why aren't you in the clinic?"

"We made a deal, remember?" House said smugly. "Three weeks. I still have two of them left."

"On the condition that you left Chase alone." Cuddy replied. "You went to his apartment. You get clinic."

As she walked away House sighed, staring after her with a frown. "Foreman, we have a spy amongst us, leaving behind pink envelopes, stockings, and tattling our business to our superiors."

--

"So I've been really sick to my stomach lately. I think I had some food poisoning from my trip to Japan last week. But my stomach really hurts. Nothing I've taken helps." The patient explained. "And then I got this weird rash."

House examined the offered arm. Another boring patient in another long session of clinic duty. But the rash wasn't boring. It was weird. House reached for his pager.

"Good news. You caught my attention." House sent a message to his ducklings that they had a new case.

He was more than a little startled when a beeping responded. He checked; _his_ pager was fine. He sent a blank message out. Again the beeping. Coming from the sink. He walked up to the sink and sent out another blank message. Under the sink. He turned to his patient.

"Do you mind?"

He motioned for the patient to check under the sink. Giving him an odd look the patient grudgingly did so and retrieved a rather dusty looking pager.

Frowning, House accepted the pager. "Thanks."

House stalked out of the room, checking the pager over. It was Chase's, with forty-seven unread messages. The earliest message was from a week ago. What happened a week ago? He tried to think about the last time he saw Chase; Healthy Chase, not Accident Chase. He had been coming out of the clinic– House went to the nurse on duty, and he smiled his most sincere smile, hoping to appear innocent; the nurse looked at him suspiciously.

"I need to see the sign in sheet from a week ago."

Looking through the records she handed the sheet to him, still looking suspicious.

There, Chase had signed in Thursday morning at eleven twenty-five, and signed out… House frowned. At eleven thirty-five. House had signed in about ten minutes later. Chase hadn't signed back in that day, or on Friday. Maybe at ICU. House took the sheet as evidence and hobbled off to continue his investigations.

--

"So what do you think happened to Chase?" Foreman asked Cameron as they headed back to the office from the cafeteria.

"He said he was in an accident."

"Do you really believe that?"

She glanced at him. "Why would he lie?"

Foreman shook his head. "I don't think he's lying, I'm thinking he's not telling the truth."

Cameron glanced at him again with a partial frown. "Isn't that the same thing?" she asked. "What do _you_ think happened?"

Foreman shrugged, but couldn't answer as they entered the conference room where Chase was waiting.

--

"_Hey Elly_."

"Tom!" Eloise was sitting in the cafe across the street from PPTH when the assistant detective who'd been in charge of Chase's case called. "How are you?"

"_I'm fine. But I'm afraid I've got some bad news_."

She looked up, setting down her coffee. "What is it?"

"_It's about the case_."

"I thought you caught the guy who did this, and he admitted to everything."

"_Yeah, well. He admitted to everything because he thought the victim was dead_."

"The 'victim's' name is Dr. Robert Chase."

"_Elly_,"

"Sorry." She closed her eyes for a moment. "What happened?"

"_He found out Dr. Chase is alive. He changed his plea_."

"But I thought– didn't he admit to killing other people? He'll go to jail. Right?"

"_His lawyers got his admission thrown out, so it can't be used as evidence. Changed his plea with all the other murders too. Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of physical evidence left to tie him to the murders. A lot of circumstantial though, so we can build a pretty strong case. But I'm no longer in charge, they gave it to that detective that had been called in the first time. Detective Tritter. He's always real determined when it comes to cases and finding evidence; and I am still working on the case, just under him. We're confident, but this… It'll end up in court. Just warning you. And Tritter is going to want to talk to Dr. Chase. He'll probably have to testify_."

She pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Thanks for the heads up."

"_There's something else_."

"What?"

"_You know the bodies we found?_"

"Yeah." She remembered that Edward had given the detectives the location of twelve of his other victims. Apparently he'd had the same fixation on these other guys that he'd had with Chase– in his head, deciding to be a father to them, making them his son– until they screwed up and disappointed him somehow. Like Chase; going out with the 'wrong kind of girl.'

"_One of them… Michael was there_."

Her eyes shot open. "What?"

"_I'm sorry_."

Eloise was stunned. She hadn't heard from Michael Steward since the party, and then she'd left the hospital. She had no idea he was even missing.

"_Elly?_" Tom was still on the line.

"Yeah… thanks, Tom." She hung up the phone.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

  
**

**Chapter 12**

"_Chase?_"

"Yeah, what's up?" Chase was instantly worried; Eloise's voice sounded a little shaky on the other end of the line. He was also surprised that she was calling him at work– she had insisted that they not let House know about her involvement with him, unless absolutely necessary.

"_I'm going to need to pick you up a little early, alright?_"

"We've got a case."

"_I know– but I really need to talk to you_."

Something was not good. "Alright, when are you coming?"

"_As soon as you can leave. I'm across the street at the cafe_."

"Okay. I'll be right down." He hung up and started to wheel towards his crutch on the other side of the room.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Chase jumped in surprise. House was standing in the doorway, with a bemused face.

"I need to go."

"We have a case."

"You can call me if you need me."

"What use would you be?" House motioned to Chase's arm and chair. Chase looked to the floor, then back up.

"Then, I can go." Not a question, it was a statement.

House stepped inside, right into Chase's path. "Nope."

Chase looked up with a roll of his eyes. "House."

"What happened to you?"

Leveling him with his eyes, Chase rested his arms in his lap. "I already told you."

"Yeah, accident. What sort of accident?"

"It doesn't matter. And it's none of your business unless it's affecting my job."

"It's affecting your job. You are basically useless to me if you can't walk." House sat down at the table.

"Right, because everyone knows cripples can't be good doctors." Chase deadpanned.

"Right… Heyyy," House grinned and shook his finger at Chase, sarcastically. Chase rolled his eyes and tried to wheel towards his crutch. Tried because as he passed House, House stuck his cane in between the spokes of the wheels, effectively locking him in place.

"Come on, House! Just leave me alone!" He gritted in frustration, and twisted his body and reached down to try to pull the cane from the wheels– but he quickly sat up again, gasping in pain.

House frowned, immediately concerned. "What's the matter?"

"Ribs." He pressed his left hand to his left side, but quickly pulled it away when the touch stung; his hand was covered in red. "I think I pulled the stitches." Chase said, staring at his hand in a trance. Blood… he was bleeding. He was going to die, alone on that dirty floor, because no one noticed he was being led by gunpoint out of the hospital.

It was so cold in the room…

House saw Chase's eyes glaze over as he stared at the blood on his hand. He watched mesmerized as Chase sat mesmerized, trying to figure out what was going on, what was going through his employee's head. His trance was broken when Chase shivered and started to fall out of the chair. House dove and caught him just in time, but he'd put weight on his bad leg. Seeing stars House grunted in pain. They both ended up on the floor

Foreman and Cameron chose that moment to enter the room with the latest test results for their patient.

"What's going on?" Foreman hurried over to move Chase back into his chair. Cameron hurried over to help House.

Foreman cursed lightly when his hand came away wet. He saw the red blossoming on Chase's shirt, and glared angrily at House's cane still stuck in the wheels of the chair. "What the heck did you do?"

"What makes you think this was… oh." House saw the incriminating cane.

"You want to know what happened so bad you're willing to endanger him?!" Foreman seethed. "Leave him be! He's _obviously_ been through something bad, can't you leave it at that?"

"Guys…" Cameron's voice tried to intersect the conversation.

"Well if everything is so obvious, what do _you_ think happened to him?"

"Guys…"

Foreman glared at House. "I don't know. And I don't want to know, until he wants to tell me."

House was about to continue the argument when Cameron cut in. "_Hey_! Chase is still bleeding."

--

Eloise looked at her phone in annoyance when it started to go off again. She didn't really want to talk to anyone. She was still upset about Michael. He was a jerk– worse than a jerk. He'd hurt her and humiliated her, and she'd been ready to write him off but she had never expected him to die. The good die young, so by her figuring Michael's life expectancy was like two hundred. She couldn't believe he was dead, and she was ashamed that she was… relieved. Not that he was dead. But she was relieved that she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

How could she?

She finally grabbed the offending phone. "Hello?"

"_Eloise. It's Cynth_."

Eloise was immediately on edge. Cynthia Travis– the doctor in charge of Chase's case. "Yes? What happened?"

"_You told me to tell you if Dr. House tried to get Dr. Chase's medical report_."

Eloise sighed; just House being nosy again. She'd been sure the garter belt in Wilson's bookcase would have distracted him for at least another day. "Yes, did he get them?"

"_No, he said that Chase had fainted and pulled some stitches, so I just told them what medicine he had been prescribed so they could treat him_."

"Did he bother you for anything else?"

"_No. I mean he asked for the records, but when I said they were classified, he asked for just the meds_."

Eloise felt her throat constrict. "Thanks Cynth." She hung up and left the cafe.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 13**

_There's a hand, and it's touching me. It's touching me. He's touching me, and I can't get away… _

Cameron frowned when Chase seemed to shrink under her touch. "Chase?" She gently shook his shoulder, his good shoulder. "C'mon, wake up."

"Excuse me." Cameron looked up. A small, young brunette was standing in the doorway; she had a face that reminded Cameron of a pixie. "Dr. Peney." She stuck out her hand. Cameron reluctantly took it, mumbling her own introduction. So this was the woman Chase had gone to that convention with.

Eloise sat down next to Chase's bed. She gently nudged his hand until he took it; he still appeared to be asleep. "Would you mind telling me what happened?" She looked up expectantly at Cameron.

Cameron blinked in surprise at Dr. Peney's intrusion. Chase couldn't be seeing someone else, could he? "I think Dr. House would–"

"Eloise?" A weak voice came from the bed.

Eloise turned her attention to Chase. "Hey," she smiled at him gently. "You scare me like that again, I won't let you come to work for another week." She mock scolded. "What happened, Robert?"

"You have a relationship with the patient?" Cameron asked, to remind them that she was still in the room. She didn't like how tenderly Eloise looked at Chase, or how trustingly Chase looked back, even through half-open eyes. How come he didn't look at her like that?

"I'm a friend, Dr. Cameron." Eloise answered, turning back to her. "I've been helping Chase since his… accident, and I was informed about the incident this afternoon, though I was not given any details."

Cameron frowned; why would Chase let this woman– this stranger– help him out, and not his friends and co-workers? Why wouldn't he open up to _her_? She'd asked him several times what had happened, always getting the same non-answer. She'd been forthcoming with hugs and the 'touchy-feely' stuff that she was famous for, which usually worked with patients, but he wasn't responding. In fact he seemed to shrink away from her.

"When will I be able to get out of here?"

Cameron put her hand reassuringly on his good shoulder again. "You'll be able to sign out in another hour or so. House is insisting on keeping you under observation, to make sure you didn't hurt anything with your fall. And we gave you some pretty strong painkillers, so we want to make sure you–"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Everyone turned. House stood in the doorway.

"I–" Eloise started.

"Not you." House waved his hand dismissively at Eloise, and pointed at Cameron. "You, don't you have work to do? Tests to run? People to hug? Get out of here."

Cameron opened her mouth in shock, but left. House turned to Eloise, his eyes narrowed as he shook a finger at her. "I should have known you were involved. You pulled the garter belt trick on me when you were going out with that guy… what was his name? Thomas?"

"_Ew_. Thomas?" Eloise raised her shoulders in a mock shudder, wrinkling her nose. "I never went out with him, you're thinking of Matt."

"Right. You couldn't come up with something more original?"

She shrugged, smiling sweetly. "It works so well, there didn't seem to be much point."

"You did the lobbyist thing too, and you were the one that answered the phone."

Eloise nodded affirmatively. Chase smiled; it was like watching a father-daughter moment the way they were so familiar with each other.

House sat down in a swivel chair and leaned back. "So you know what happened to Chase?"

Chase's hand tightened on hers, his smile disappearing. Eloise squeezed back reassuringly.

"I know what you know."

"But you also know more than I do."

"It's been that way since I was a teenager and knew everything." Eloise joked.

House suddenly frowned, staring at her outfit; she'd obviously not just come from her job at the hospital. "Don't you have work?"

"I quit."

"You quit? Why on earth would you do that?" House frowned again, more darkly this time. "It's because of Steward, isn't it? Because of what happened at that stupid convention. Was he giving you a hard time about it? Because I'd be happy to go over there and–"

"Yes, it was about Steward." She glanced down at Chase who was looking tired again. She squeezed his hand and got up. "Why don't you buy me lunch and we'll talk about it."

--

Detective Tritter was not happy to be back at this hospital again. And he was not happy to be dealing with that Aussie doctor again. The Aussie doctor was too close to House, which meant that as long as _he_– Tritter– was on the case, _he_ would be close to House, and that was potentially bad for both of their health's. He walked through the sliding glass doors.

"Detective Tritter?" Cuddy approached him in the lobby. She looked about as happy to see him as he was to see her. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here to talk to Dr. Chase."

She blinked. "Dr. Chase? Listen, if this is about House, the judge already ordered–"

"This is not about House at all." Tritter informed her. "In fact I plan to avoid House and his employees as much as possible. Unfortunately this case directly involves Dr. Chase."

Cuddy frowned. "What sort of case? Dr. Chase hasn't done anything wrong."

"No he hasn't, but–"

"Well if it isn't our very own friendly neighborhood, grudge-carrying cop." House called out as he sauntered over. Eloise, seeing the detective, hurried back to Chase's room; he deserved some warning. "Did another doctor insult you?"

Turning to greet his nemesis, Tritter folded his hands together and nodded. "Dr. House. This does not involve you, and I would appreciate it if we avoided each other while I work this case."

"Well, that may be difficult since I just love your company so much."

"Interfering with a criminal investigation, obstruction of justice… I would still love to see you behind bars, so give me a reason." Tritter's voice was dangerous.

"You actually need a REAL reason? How about the fact I'm criminally brilliant? Criminally beautiful? Criminally charming and witty? Too bad drug use is off the table, you cured it." House waggled his eyebrows and popped a pill.

Tritter clenched his fists and tried to remind himself why murder was not considered an appropriate course of action when dealing with people like House.

Cuddy saw that this was close to becoming a very bad situation and quickly interfered. "I'll take you to Chase's room."

"He's with a patient?" Tritter asked incredulously. He hadn't thought Chase would be able to work with people for a while after what he'd been through.

"No, he _is_ a patient. What do you want with the Aussie?" House asked suspiciously.

"A patient?" Tritter glanced between House and Cuddy. "I understood that he had been released a week ago, and that he'd been treated at Princeton Gen."

Cuddy smiled diplomatically, while glaring at House. "Yes, he'd just returned to work. There was a minor complication."

_Did this minor complication have a cane?_ Tritter wondered. He was also starting to wonder if Chase had been forthcoming with the details of his ordeal with his employers.

--

"I'm so sorry, Robert." Eloise said, biting her lip.

Chase stared out to the far wall. It seemed that Edward was not yet done hurting him.

"I think House went to bug Detective Tritter, but he'll be here soon." Her look was gentle. "Are you ready?"

_What sort of question is that? Of course I'm not ready_. He swallowed thickly. "Yeah."

She helped him sit up and got him into a pair of scrubs, so he wouldn't have to face Tritter in the flimsy, paper patient gown. It was none-too soon.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Chase."

"Detective Tritter." Chase said glumly. He had always gotten a bad vibe from Tritter, especially after the detective had tried to turn the rest of the team– and House– against him– and threatened him– during the whole House/Tritter fiasco.

Tritter looked questioningly at Eloise, who promptly introduced herself. "Eloise Peney. I'm a friend." She said, smiling sweetly at him with an extended hand.

"Pleasure, Miss Peney." Tritter shook her hand, then turned to Chase. "I'm going to need a statement from you, and a description of the event in your own words. Edward Manning is now trying to–"

"I've been made aware of the steps Mr. Manning is taking to defend himself in court." Chase interrupted, keeping his face a mask.

"Yes, well." Tritter stared pointedly at Eloise, hoping she'd get the hint and leave.

"Dr. Peney will be staying." Chase stated firmly. He grabbed her hand, and leveled the detective with a daring gaze.

Tritter sighed and nodded. As long as House wasn't in the room he was happy.

"How's it going, Sherlock?"

Speaking of the devil himself… Tritter cursed to himself. "Dr. House…" Tritter warned.

"I want to listen to story time too." House's words were light, but his eyes were serious.

Chase closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "Let him stay." He said. Tritter glared, but when Chase opened his eyes they were decisively firm. "I only want to go through this once. Might as well get it over with."

House looked triumphant; Tritter looked borderline suicidal. Chase continued. "There are ground rules." He pointed at House. "Absolutely no, and I mean _no_, comments, gestures, faces, or noises."

"Can I breathe?" House asked sarcastically.

"Only when necessary, and then without any noise." The serious banter felt good. "You can sit in that chair." Chase pointed at the chair in the corner farthest away from him. "And you are not allowed to get up unless it means you are leaving. When I'm done, you will leave. I don't want to talk about it at all afterwards."

House didn't look happy with all these ground rules and was about to protest them.

"If you break these rules, I won't say anything, to anyone, anymore."

House realized he was completely serious, and that realization seemed to switch something inside of him. He stared levelly at the young blond doctor. "Okay."

"You promise?"

House sighed. "Yes, Chase. I pinky promise with a cherry on top. Story?" He sat down in his designated chair.

Eloise squeezed Chase's hand once again. And he started his story.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 14**

Tritter was not bound by the 'ground rules' Chase had set on House, something that House thought was completely unfair. He had considered complaining– until Chase began talking.

As House listened to Chase's story his face became a mask, only his eyes betraying his shock. He'd expected something bad, given Chase's condition. Possibly something embarrassing, given his refusal to talk about it; but never something like this. Chase's story was something taken from some angst-ridden drama, like a movie or maybe a crime novel. This couldn't have possibly happened to someone here– someone he knew. _Especially_ not to this particular person.

His mind flashed back to that day. He remembered approaching Chase, that Chase had been leaving, and he tried to recall if there had been any indication that there was something wrong. He frowned; Chase had seemed pale, nervous. His eyes had been too wide, and he wouldn't look directly at House when he talked. When he had blamed Chase for stealing his nametag, Chase had handed it over without a word. His hand had been shaking. House wanted to hit himself over the head; he should have been paying more attention! He could have saved Chase. He had been distracted by Cuddy. If she hadn't come along, if he had been more concerned about Chase's condition instead of his clinic hours then… then what? He might've been shot, innocent bystanders killed. Had it worked out better this way? House listened to Chase's description of his two day captivity, and knew. He should've stopped Chase from leaving the hospital.

Chase's face remained impassive as he recounted his ordeal. He felt like he was describing someone else, maybe a patient. At least it made it easier to talk about.

"I guess… I passed out, eventually. When I came too I was buried. I tried to dig myself out… and I heard your voice?" Chase looked questioningly at Tritter.

The detective nodded. "Yeah, some kids saw Mr. Manning digging in his yard, and their parents called us in. You're lucky to be alive, you know."

Chase nodded mutely, and then risked a glance at House. He was waiting for the ridicule, for some sarcastic comment, anything. But House didn't look like he was going to do any of that. He looked… sad. And so angry.

Chase was surprised. Maybe House felt guilty about sending him down to the clinic, or for not noticing something was wrong when Chase had been forced out of the hospital– that his amazing brain hadn't picked up the clues. Chase hoped House wasn't pitying him. That would be the worst thing possible. House never pitied anyone. But the look in House's eyes…

Tritter asked a few more questions, and then said that the court date was in a couple of weeks. "I don't think we'll have any trouble sticking it to this guy." Tritter said confidently, rising from his chair. Glancing to one side he looked for House's reaction, and smirked to himself at how shell-shocked the doctor seemed to be. Nodding to Chase and Eloise, Tritter left.

The spell on House broke at Tritter's smirk, a flash of fire entering his eyes. Quickly standing up House grabbed his cane and left the room. Chase sank back into the bed, closing his eyes and releasing a slow breath.

Eloise sensed he wanted to be alone for a bit. Standing she set her hand next to his on the bed. "I'll go find the nurse so you can sign out, alright?"

He nodded.

Leaving the room she checked both ways, and catching sight of the cane disappearing around a corner she hurried after it. She quickly caught up to House, who'd been heading to the elevators.

"He's going to need help." Eloise said as she came up behind him.

"He's got you." House stated, entering the elevators.

"I don't count." Eloise followed him in. The lights flashed above the door as they switched floors. "I am here because he needed to recover and process what happened. He was such a mess before. But now he's back here and he's finally _told_ someone. Some one he actually knows. _You_. He needs support."

"You were running interference before." House accused. The doors opened and he got out. Eloise had to hurry to catch up to him.

"I didn't want anyone forcing him to talk about what happened before he was ready." Eloise pointed out. "I know how you can be."

House refused to look at her. "So why didn't you tell me yourself?"

She sighed. Yep; he was ticked. "It wasn't my place. He didn't want people to know and I thought he deserved his privacy and the right to tell you himself. Look." She grabbed House's arm, stopping them in the middle of the hallway. "I may not have handled this right. But this isn't about me _or_ you. Chase needs your support. Now _don't_ treat him different, but you can be a little understanding."

"You just said not to treat him differently." He leaned down, getting in her face. "Make up your mind."

"You know what I mean." She folded her arms. House pushed past her and kept moving. "Why are you walking away?"

He kept walking.

Realization hit her, and her eyes widened. Taking in a sharp breath she went after him. "Oh no. You're not going to run away from this. This isn't… This _can't_ be like with Jamie." She grabbed his arm, and he spun around and faced her as though to retaliate, but he said nothing– and there was fear in his eyes.

"I don't know what to do." He admitted.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 15**

"What's with House?" Foreman frowned, patient file forgotten in the wake of their bosses stormy entrance and departure.

"I don't know," Cameron looked back at the office. The shades were down. "He's been in there since Chase and that… Dr. Peney left."

--

House caught the tennis ball again and bounced it off the wall. Toss, bounce, catch; toss, bounce, catch. He thought back to what Eloise had said: _"You're not going to run away from this. This isn't… this can't be like Jamie."_

Toss, bounce, catch; toss, bounce, catch. He hadn't thought about Jamie, _really_ thought about Jamie, for years now. It had been fifteen years since the actual event, but it still hurt.

Toss, bounce, catch; toss, bounce, catch.

He and Jamie had been off and on. Eloise had approved of Jamie, and House suspected that the then fourteen-year-old girl had meddled in the relationship; it didn't help that Jamie worked across the street from the hospital.

He and Jamie had gotten in a fight, again, and she decided to walk home from work. It was late at night…

House threw the ball at the door, and the person who had dared disturb his thoughts by knocking retreated, but was back seconds later. Cameron stuck her head in, ready to duck any other possible projectiles.

"House, are you alright?"

House raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Aren't I always?" he quipped. "Oh wait– you think this has something to do with Chase."

She stepped in, hands in her pockets. "You're in here sulking, and Chase went home."

"Why didn't you follow him? I know the broken nose look is not exactly–"

"He's with Dr. Peney." She hid it well, but he saw the look of jealousy and hurt that flickered through her eyes.

"So…" House pretended to look perplexed. "That answers my question how? You should be firmly attached to his bedside, listening to his problems, sharing feelings. You know, that stuff you do." He waved his hand dismissively.

Cameron lifted her shoulders. "He doesn't want to talk to me."

"That's all it takes to get you to leave someone alone? I don't want to talk to you."

She did one of those tolerant, slow blinks that was not quite an eye roll. "House."

House frowned. "Why does that only work for him?"

She stepped closer. "I'm… _we're_ worried about you."

He blinked. "There's more than one of you?"

"Foreman."

House leaned back in his chair and peered out the door. "Yo, Foreman!"

They could hear Foreman grumbling as he stood up and came to the doorway. "What House?" he asked.

"Yeah, he really seems beside himself with worry." House shot sarcastically at Cameron.

Foreman rolled his eyes. "I'll be leaving. I'm swinging by Chase's place." He looked at Cameron. "Want to come with?"

She shook her head, dropping her gaze as she quickly left the room.

"Why are you going to Chase's place?" House stood up, grabbing his jacket. "I thought you didn't like him."

"I figure after what he's been through, it'd be good for him to have someone who knows him, you know– a friend, around."

"You don't know what he's been–"

Foreman held up a hand to stop him, "I've got a good idea. I've got friends in Princeton General, heard Tritter was here for Chase. And seeing how Chase acted today, I think I can put two and two together."

"I thought you said you didn't want to know what happened to Chase, and you weren't going to dig into his private life."

"Because people _always_ mean what they say." Foreman retorted with a touch of irony in his tone. "Besides, I wasn't digging, I was listening. Heck of a lot better than making him rip out his stitches– Why are you grabbing your bag?"

House looked at Foreman incredulously. "I thought you just said you could put two and two together. Why do _you_ think I'm grabbing my bag?" He pointed to the door. "Lets go."

--

The car ride was silent, each person lost in their own thoughts.

House knew he shouldn't have let her walk home by herself. He got the call in the middle of the night: Jamie had been admitted to the ER. She'd been assaulted.

He broke several laws getting to the hospital, arriving in record time. He sat by her bedside as she recovered, all the while blaming himself for every cut and bruise on her body.

She didn't blame him, not once, and that made it harder. She blamed herself, and they would sit together in silence, stewing in their own guilt. That was a recipe for disaster. House couldn't deal; he'd always had problems handling his own emotions, let alone other people's, so he fled. And she still didn't blame him. She blamed herself right to the bitter end, a bitter end she found at the end of a 9mm.

"Are you coming, House?"

House was jerked out of his thoughts by Foreman; they were at Chase's apartment. Time to face the music, as they say. "Wait," he said as Foreman opened his door and stuck his foot out. "We can't just go in there empty handed."

Foreman raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Get back in the car." It wouldn't hurt to put this off, just a little bit more.

--

The lobbyist of doom eyed them, but he let them pass through this time. House was not surprised that he actually seemed to have been expecting them. The patient and patronizing look was a little much, though.

They knocked on the door. There were hurried footsteps and some shuffling around inside– someone obviously wasn't expecting them. Then they heard a muffled Australian plea: "Don't answer the door, we'll pretend we're not here."

House knocked again. "We know you're in there! Hurry up, open the door. Pizza's getting cold, beer's getting warm, chips're getting crushed and the cripple is getting tired."

They heard a groan, and the request "Make them go away." Chase obviously didn't know how thin the door was. Eloise opened the door, a patient smile on her face and a knowing look in her eyes. Foreman, holding a couple boxes of pizza, nodded in greeting.

House held up two six packs and a bag of chips. "We come bearing gifts. Can't turn us away now." He pushed his way in.

Chase was stretched out in a recliner, a warm colorful blanket around his legs, a book in his lap, and a cup of tea on the side table. It would have been the picture of warm fuzzy comfort if the bandages hadn't ruined it. The crutch was on the floor next to him. Chase looked up at them disapprovingly, and House realized he looked a lot like Jamie. It was something he'd never noticed before. They were both blondes, and both got that exact same look on their face when they were annoyed with him. But she would always sigh and shake her head, giving up.

Closing his book Chase sighed and shook his head, giving up.

House had always been convinced that the universe was against him; not necessarily some angry God– but the universe itself was plotting his demise. Now he wasn't so sure. The universe had done something nice to him for once. It had given him a second chance.

He wasn't going to screw this one up.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 16**

"I still don't think he should have been allowed to put so many rules on this."

"It's the only way we were going to get him to agree to let us do anything." Foreman argued. "Besides, I think he was entirely reasonable, four entirely reasonable and expected requests."

House glared sideways at Foreman. "It's attitudes like that that get us into these kinds of situations."

"What situation?" Foreman spread his hands, a look of disbelief on his face. "You only have to tell Wilson, no– _get_ to tell Wilson. Chase and I still don't really understand why he needs to know any of this. _I_ have to tell Cameron. I don't understand why you're complaining. Oh wait… it's you. I should be worried if you're _not_ complaining."

House grinned.

Over pizza, Foreman and House had managed to get Chase to agree that certain people– Cameron, Cuddy and Wilson– had to know what had happened to him because they worked so closely with him, and it was important to avoid confrontations like he'd had earlier that day with House and the wheelchair. Chase pointed out that House would be the only person he worked with that would _get_ him into confrontations like he'd had earlier that day, but he eventually conceded to their reasoning. However, he had laid down some rules.

_Rule Number One:_ Foreman and House had to tell their assigned persons before Chase arrived at work, to give their assigned persons time to understand.

_Rule Number Two:_ Touching, hugging or any other good intentioned attempts at consolation were a strict no-no, and Chase was to be allowed to do things for himself: get his own coffee and lunch, and so on.

_Rule Number Three:_ Chase was not to be cornered and forced to talk about IT.

_Rule Number Four:_ And most importantly, no one else was supposed to know. Chase hadn't been entirely convinced that even Wilson needed to be informed, but because of House's eloquent arguments ("I'm gonna do it any way.") he folded.

Foreman was not looking forward to telling Cameron. He himself had been somewhat prepared to hear Chase's story. He had already sort of figured out what had happened, based on Chase's reactions throughout the day and what some of the nurses from Princeton General had told him; but he had thought it had been just a random one-time attack. He never would have imagined the truth. How did one break such news to their colleague?

Foreman and House split up once they reached the third floor. House headed to Wilson's office, and Foreman headed to the conference room.

Cameron was already there, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee.

Foreman paused in the doorway, unsure, then boldly stepped in. "Hello, Cameron."

"Hi."

Foreman went to the cupboard and grabbed a coffee cup. "Nice morning."

Cameron glanced out at the window, then at Foreman, perfectly shaped eyebrows pulling together. "I… guess so." She looked at him curiously; Foreman wasn't one to talk about the weather. "Is something up?"

Foreman stared at the bottom of his cup. Cameron stood, ready to offer comfort if necessary.

"Yeah." He returned the cup to the cupboard and went to sit down across from her, so she returned to her seat.

"So." he started. "I went over to Chase's apartment last night."

_Oh, Chase._ Cameron thought to herself. She started to pick up her newspaper again. Chase had found Eloise. He had someone to care about him already, so she didn't need to waste her time. Still, what right did he have to start looking around? He was with her– and why would he confide in someone he'd known for obviously a _very_ short period of time and not in her? Cameron shifted. "Oh, yeah… how was that?"

"Shocking, really."

"Mhmm." She tried to appear disinterested.

He looked at her. "What do you think happened to Chase?"

"I haven't given it much thought. Do you know what happened?"

"Yeah, and I just wanted to know what you thought, before I told you."

"Oh, NOW somebody is going to tell me what is going on?"

"Is everything alright?" Foreman looked concerned.

"Everything is peachy." She threw down the newspaper, folded her arms on the table, and stared at him. "So what happened to Chase? According to Princeton Gen he was in a car crash."

"A car crash?" Foreman frowned. Chase's wounds were hard to mistake for car crash injuries. "No. Wait, they sent in his medical records from Princeton Gen?"

"No. They just sent in his treatment schedule and a brief outline of the cause of the injuries. No details. I don't understand why he would be so upset about a stupid car crash that he wouldn't tell us about it."

Foreman sighed. "He wasn't in a car crash." Cameron seemed upset, and that just made his job ten times harder.

--

"Earth to Jimmy." House waved his hand in front of Wilson's face. Wilson just looked at him in shock with his mouth wide open. Eyes squinted in rapt fascination House stared at the open mouth, then moved to close it, but Wilson snapped out of his daze and pulled away.

"H-how… Oh my gosh." Wilson shook his head. House had delivered the story about Chase in a very Housian manner: brisk, blunt, and to the point, with no preamble to prepare his poor audience. Wilson was more than a little surprised. "That's terrible!"

"And stalker dude is now making him go to court." House stated, standing slowly. "His lawyers are very good, got it so the confession and the bodies of the other victims can't be used in court as evidence."

Wilson was more or less recovered, so he stored away his shock and horror in a little box in the back of his mind– which was someday destined to explode in a spectacular array of great magnitude. Of that House was certain. "Didn't you say there were thirteen bodies?" Wilson said.

"Yup."

"How can that be thrown out? Thirteen people, _and_ Chase?"

House started to pace slowly. "Some loop hole. They say he's mentally incapacitated, that he falsely confessed to the attacks and murders because he was under duress and he wanted to become famous. I dunno…"

"But the police… They've got to have evidence, something."

"They've got plenty of stuff, but only for Chase. And they can link _one_ of the bodies to Chase, but the rest…"

Wilson held up his hand, blinking. "Wait, one of the bodies was linked to Chase?"

"Dr. Steward. He and Chase got in a fight during that convention thingy, remember?" Wilson nodded, and House continued. "He was the thirteenth body. They think he was killed for revenge, probably right after he left the convention."

"Does Chase know?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah, Eloise has an 'in' in the department, so she's been able to keep him– and now us– updated. Which is good, because usually the police wouldn't tell us diddley-squat."

"And Eloise is leaving in two weeks?"

House nodded. "A few days after the trial. She's moving back to New York, found out yesterday she got a job there at New York Presbyterian Hospital."

Leaning back in his chair, Wilson folded his hands in his lap. "How is Chase doing?"

"He says he doesn't want to talk about it. He just wants to move on." House muttered, turning as he paced so he stood in front of Wilson's desk.

"Well that's understandable–"

"I'm scared."

"You're scared?" More shock to be stored away in Wilson's little box. "Did you just admit you're scared? 'Cause now I'm scared."

"Did I st-st-stutter? Do I haf a lithp?" House retorted. "Yes. I'm scared."

"Why? Oh– Jamie." Wilson moved to reach out consolingly, but House glared at him until he sat down again. "It's not going to be like Jamie. Chase _won't_ be like Jamie."

House had the 'aura of doom' about him. "You don't even know, you weren't around when Jamie–"

"You told me enough about it that I can honestly say that Chase is not like Jamie."

"Have you seen pictures? Elly might still have a few. If Jamie had been a guy she would have looked _just_ like Chase and vise versa. Jamie didn't want to talk about what happened to her, and I didn't make her, and– well, you know what happened then. Now _Chase_ doesn't want to talk about it, and I just don't kn–"

"Stop."

House looked at Wilson, shocked that he would stop him in mid-rant. Wilson continued. "I don't want the Four Horsemen to come thundering from the clouds. Which is exactly what would happen if you, Dr. House, say you don't know what to do. You do know what to do, you just don't want to do it. Eloise has been his crutch. He's going to be losing that crutch in a couple of weeks. You need to teach him how to walk again. Just– be there for him."

House nodded. He limped to the door and was about to hobble out but he turned around. He looked at his cane, then back towards Wilson. "Your metaphors really suck, Jimmy."

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 17**

"How did yours go?" House asked from the doorway to the room.

"How did _yours_ go?" Foreman snapped from his place by the coffee maker.

"I asked first." House was unusually quiet. "That bad huh?"

"Did we really expect anything different?" Foreman sighed. "It was really weird, Cameron seemed mad at Chase when I got there, but she wouldn't say why. She thought he was in a car crash, which is the official story on his medical records, but when I told her what really happened… she was upset, to say the least. Which I expected, but then she started blaming herself." Walking to the table, Foreman faced House. "Apparently she was at the clinic and talked to Chase right before he was grabbed and… I don't know. It was strange. But now she has got a guilt complex to dwarf all guilt complexes." Foreman sat down with his coffee cup.

House limped into the room. "You did explain the rules to her, right? If Chase feels threatened by consoling actions he'll run away and clam up in his burrow like the scared little Wombat that he is."

"I told her he needs space. I'm hoping she understood, but I can run interference if necessary."

"Good." House nodded. "The last thing a skittish wombat needs is Cameron comfort."

--

Eloise stopped in the lobby and turned to Chase, her hands in her jeans' pockets. "I'll be back to pick you up at one." She said. "But I'll be nearby if you need me to come sooner."

Chase nodded, steadying himself on his crutch. "Thanks Eloise."

A small smile ghosted across her lips as she looked at him, a gentle look in her hazel eyes. With a small gesture she offered a touch, and when he did not turn away or ignore the offer she reached up and brushed a stray lock of blond hair from his forehead.

Then they parted. Eloise had been assigned to explain to Cuddy what had happened to Chase, and to try and contain the explosion that was sure to follow. Moving carefully Chase made his way to the elevators, wincing as his bruises ached and his cracked rib pulled. Even the gash on his left leg seemed extra painful today. Entering the elevator he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing shallowly until the aches subsided; then he rode up to the third floor and got to the conference room, thankfully with no incidents. There were a few sideways glances at the bandages, cast and crutch, but it had been spread around the hospital for some time now that Dr. Chase had been injured by either:

a) a car accident,

b) Cameron,

c) rescuing children from a burning building, or

d) House.

The rumor mill was currently favoring choices b and d, though c had been very popular for a while with romantic nurses.

Foreman and House were both reading over a case file. Chase felt hopeful; maybe they had a case. House had informed him that their other case had been released the previous night; it had been a weird parasite from poorly cooked fish the patient had eaten in Japan. Quick, simple, easy, boring.

A new case would be a nice distraction from all the other stuff going on.

They quickly snapped the folders shut when Chase limped in. He frowned, suspecting and then knowing what they were looking at. "Is that–"

"No." House interrupted. He pulled out another case file, passing out folders to his fellows and then going to the white board, grabbing a marker. "We have a new case that Cuddy is forcing me to take. Patient is a thirty-nine year old female–" He stopped and looked around, then frowned. "Where is Cameron?"

"Her coat is here." Chase offered, propping his crutch against the wall and carefully sitting down in the waiting wheelchair. House gripped the marker tighter, and Foreman frowned and studied the file with intense interest. Chase noticed the discomfort in the room. "What?"

Foreman and House were remembering the same moment.

"_Where's Chase?"_

_Cameron shrugged, "His coat is here, maybe he's at ICU?"_

_"There was a bad car crash, the ER was pretty crowded, he's probably there." Foreman offered. _

"Nothing." Foreman answered quickly. Chase frowned. Luckily further discussion was cut off when Cameron came in.

"Where were you?" House demanded.

Cameron blinked at him, surprised. "Oh– I decided to go out."

"Because it's not as if you have work to do." He said sarcastically.

"You weren't here, and our last case was sent home last night." Cameron turned and smiled at Chase. "I went and got you a coffee." She put it down in front of him and started pushing his chair so it was closer to the table.

Chase grabbed the wheel of his chair with his good hand, abruptly stopping the forward motion. "Thank you Cameron." He said pointedly, and started studying the file with intense concentration. The message _please leave me alone now_ should have been clear. Cameron put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Chase, not expecting it and still not entirely comfortable with physical contact, flinched away from the touch.

Cameron quickly pulled away, and chewed her lip like she was about to cry. Chase saw how upset she was and sighed. "I'm sorry Cameron. You startled me." He noticed her furious blinking as she glanced away, and realized that tears were welling up in her eyes. He should have expected it. At a loss of what to do he looked to Foreman and House for help.

"Patient is a thirty-nine year old female, complaining of dizziness and blackout spells." House stated loudly. Cameron went to her seat to look over the patient file while House wrote the symptoms on the board.

Then he turned back to his ducklings. Foreman and Chase were studying the symptoms on the board and had expressions of intense thought, but Cameron was staring at Chase.

"Well… it's neurological." Chase mentioned.

"No… How'd you come up with that one, genius?"

Chase blinked at the insult, then a quick grin flashed across his face– which he tried to hide by ducking his head.

Cameron looked indignant. "House!"

"It could be a stroke, or a series of minor ones." Foreman suggested.

Chase nodded. "It makes the most sense."

"It would, if tests hadn't already ruled out stroke." House shot it down.

"Maybe she just has a blood clot in her brain. Not necessarily a stroke." Chase offered.

"She's on anti-depressants, strong ones. Maybe it's a reaction to the drugs." Foreman threw out.

"Oi, Cameron." Cameron looked up at House. "Chase is not the patient. Pay attention to the case."

"House…" She said between clenched teeth, asking with her eyes how dare he single her out because she cared, and for heaven's sake, didn't he have any sense of compassion for Chase?

"That's my name, don't wear it out. And pulling it through your teeth like that is definitely going to make it stretch." He said with a wry smile. "You and Foreman go do a blood screen, and get a CT of her head." House started to head to his office.

Foreman closed his file and got up to go. Cameron followed House.

"We need to talk." She announced, closing the door behind her.

House looked confused. "Okay… why?"

"Why would you insult Chase?"

"I always insult Chase except under extenuating circumstances." He said, sitting down and crossing his feet on his desk.

She lifted her hands in exasperation. "Don't you think this is an extenuating circumstance?"

"Why would it be?"

"You know, after what happened to him, maybe he needs a little sympathy and comfort." She folded her arms.

''What Chase needs is for things to go back to normal."

"Things _aren't_ normal."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Why not? Because they aren't! Didn't you see the way he reacted when I touched him? He isn't alright, and he needs help."

"He isn't broken. Keep away from him." House warned.

"I want to help him."

"Following those 'rules' that Foreman may have mentioned– you know, the ones like letting Chase get his own coffee, keeping physical contact to a minimum– would be much, much more helpful. Besides, you weren't so willing to help last night when you _declined_ to go over to his place."

She looked hurt. "I didn't know what had happened to him."

"You thought he would be fine last night. And Foreman said you were mad at Chase this morning. Which would explain why you tried to kill him with that coffee."

Cameron looked shocked at that suggestion. "I didn't try to kill him."

House rolled his eyes. "Puh-lease, I can smell the sugar in that coffee from _here_. He'll go into shock if he tries to drink that."

"He likes sugar in his coffee." She protested.

"He drinks his coffee black, puts sugar in his tea. If you are going to do a nice gesture, make sure you do it right. 'It's the thought that counts' is a load of crap; all it does is show you don't actually pay attention."

Cameron shoved her hands into the pockets of her white coat. "I wasn't mad at him." She said, trying to change the topic.

"No?" House leaned back in his chair.

"I was upset that he was talking to Dr. Peney and not me. But now… I understand why."

"That's very big of you." House condescended. "Now why don't you do your job? And let Chase figure out what he needs on his own."

Cameron sighed and swept out angrily. House watched Chase.

Chase was reading an old, well worn book– crossword puzzles were too frustrating to do with his left hand– his back to the only solid wall in the room. He reached over and took the coffee Cameron brought him and frowned at it. He sniffed it experimentally and took a sip. He gagged almost immediately at the sweetness. Quickly rolling over to the sink he tipped the cup, dumping the contents down the drain.

House smiled, knowing he had been right about the sugar. He grabbed his iPod and speakers and brought them out to the conference room. Time to try that support thing Wilson talked about.

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 18**

"Sure the Rolling Stones are good–"

"They're great."

"In your opinion. I just prefer indie bands."

"Why? They appeal to your inner depressed teenage girl?"

Chase sent House a death glare. The two men had gotten into a conflict over the merits of The Greats (ex. The Rolling Stones, the Who) verses the new 'Alternative' bands, when Chase– after House had shared one of 'The Who's' songs– unwittingly slighted it with a shrug and an "It's alright".

"I just find that I relate to the messages in the– Here, just give me your speakers." Chase dug through his bag and pulled out his own iPod.

House reluctantly handed over his speakers and watched Chase plug in his iPod and select a song.

"Here is a good one."

_And even though the moment passed me by_

_I still can't turn away_

_Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose_

_Got tossed along the way_

_And letters that you never meant to send_

_Get lost or thrown away_

_And now we're grown up orphans_

_That never knew their names_

_We don't belong to no one_

_That's a shame_

_But if you could hide beside me_

_Maybe for a while_

_And I won't tell no one your name_

_And I won't tell em your name_

_Scars are souvenirs you never lose_

_The past is never far_

_Did you lose yourself somewhere out there_

_Did you get to be a star_

_And don't it make you sad to know that life_

_Is more than who we are_

_You grew up way too fast_

_And now there's nothing to believe_

_And reruns all become our history_

_A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio_

_And I won't tell no one your name_

_And I won't tell em your name_

_I think about you all the time_

_But I don't need the same_

_It's lonely where you are come back down_

_And I won't tell em your name_

House shook his head. "Goo Goo Dolls? You like a song played by a group called the Goo Goo Dolls?"

"'A rose by any other name', House. Besides, the name's completely irrelevant to their music. Did you like the song?"

"Meh." House waved his hand. "It's alright." He didn't really like it but could see where Chase would think he could relate. Of course, Chase didn't really think like that. Right?

"To each his own." Chase ceded. House frowned.

"Brit, you need to defend your choice of music, to the death if necessary. Your music defines who you are. Didn't you learn anything in high school?"

Chase shrugged. "I just don't care that much." He said. "If you don't like that sort of music it doesn't bother me. A lot of people don't like that type of music."

"What about your nationality?" House threw out.

"You know what it is."

"But I just called you a Brit." House squinted. "That usually makes you, at the very least, annoyed."

"You know what I am."

"Then shouldn't I use the correct nationality?"

Chase shrugged. "You should, but you don't. I've gotten used to it."

House sat back, staring hard. "Stick up for yourself."

"Why?"

House frowned again. "Because. That's what you're supposed to do. What's wrong with you today?"

Chase turned away, fingering his book's tattered cover. "Nothing."

"You're being unusually passive. Yesterday you seemed okay. What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

Heaving a frustrated sigh, House tried a threat. "Remember what happened last time you lied to me?"

Chase looked at him questioningly.

"Your stitches?" House offered.

"I didn't lie to you then." Chase pointed out. "It wasn't your business. It still shouldn't be."

"But now it is. What's wrong with you?"

A look of frustration at House's stubbornness filled his face, a break in the mask he had been wearing. "IT is what is wrong with me."

"IT?"

"The attack, the kidnapping, the torture, whatever _you_ want to call IT. I made Cameron cry just by sitting there. Because she couldn't even _touch_ me with out me flipping out." He looked down at his bandages and the wheelchair with an expression of pent up anger. "It has been more than a week since IT happened, and I'm still… broken."

House watched him, quiet. "You aren't broken."

Chase looked up. "I am. I mean, what's wrong with me? I made Cameron _cry_ I'm so messed up."

"Cameron cries over a lot of things." House raised his eyebrow. "I saw her cry over an un-calibrated centrifuge once."

Chase tapped the fingers of his left hand, hesitant. "But… Cameron never really… noticed me before. We were together, but… not really. She…" he paused, unsure if he should confide further; then it bubbled out. "The coffee, for instance. I _know_ it was a nice gesture and it's stupid to make a big deal about nothing, but the coffee she brought me was full of sugar. Two years working together, weeks of being together, and she doesn't know I drink my coffee black. I've never been anything more to her than a microwave pizza, quick and convenient." He studied his hand for a moment. "I'd just hoped for more, you know. And this– this has screwed it up because now she'll only care about me because of this." Chase paused to catch his breath before looking up, a sudden flash of indignation in his _very_ blue eyes. "And you! You are being _nice_ to me. That's against 'the rules' you know. Well intentioned attempts at consolation, remember?"

House looked affronted. "I'm so _not_ trying to console you. Wilson says I need to learn how to give support. So I thought I'd practice, get in shape to deal with patients. _You_ won't sue me for malpractice or misconduct, so you're ideal."

Chase tipped his head back with a disbelieving laugh. "Please, House…"

"Oh, would you get over yourself?!" House grabbed his cane and stood up, ignoring Chase's shocked expression. "You were kidnapped from under our very noses! You came back bandaged up to the eyeballs! _That's_ why Cameron's crying and being 'nice' to you." House fumed while he paced, his blue eyes burning.

"I– I didn't…"

"_I was there_. And I didn't see it." House leaned confrontationally in Chase's direction, then resumed pacing. "And your story, reminded me of… Missing what happened to you is like missing that the patient is green and bleeding orange out of his eyeballs, and diagnosing him with a cold."

Chase looked away. This whole speech seemed out of character. House wasn't supposed to admit he was wrong. "I just didn't want–"

"Don't worry. I don't do pity."

"Why are you being so nice? It's starting to creep me out." Chase tried to joke with a half-hearted smile and laugh, weak though it was, hoping that maybe House would stop with his strange out of character speech and go back to old House; old House was funny. And distracting.

It was quiet for a while, both men looking away and trying to ignore the fact that they may, sort of, possibly, maybe, just had a 'bonding moment.'

"What did it remind you of?" The question was quiet and hesitant, unsure if there was a boundary being overstepped.

House dropped his chin. Dang. His slip-up had been caught. "Tell you what." He suggested. "Tonight _you_ order the pizza." he gave Chase a meaningful look. "I'll bring the beer."

"CT scans were clean." Foreman announced as he and Cameron returned to the conference room. "No clots."

House turned. "That _is_ generally what a clean CT scan means."

"Blood tests normal. There isn't anything wrong with her."

"Right; so we should ignore these pesky symptoms. Why didn't we think of that before?" House mused loudly.

Foreman gave him a look.

All at once the four doctors' beepers went off.

"New symptom," House announced. "The patient is seizing."

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 19**

With the patient once again stable, the dry-erase marker squeaked on the board as House added the new symptom. "Okay. Suggestions?"

"The dizziness, the blackouts, the seizures­– it's neurological." Foreman announced.

"Or it could be an infection." Cameron argued.

"No," Chase shook his head. "No fever."

"Well… maybe not yet…"

"Right. Because patients who have infections don't get fevers. They seize instead." House mocked.

"Could be a toxin." Chase offered.

"Pesticides?" Foreman wondered.

Cameron shook her head. "She's a vegetarian, and only eats organic foods. And she doesn't have a garden."

"You sure?"

She looked at House. "I did a very careful patient history. All organic. No pesticides. _And_ she lives on the third floor of her apartment building."

House sighed, eyebrows scrunched as he thought. "Anyone go to her place yet?"

Foreman scoffed. "She just came in today. So– no."

"Hmm." House eyed each of his employees. "Can't send you, your morals say that breaking and entering is wrong, much less rifling through someone's private things. Can't send _you_ because they haven't invented wheels that can go up stairs yet. So the winner is– you!" He turned triumphantly to Foreman, who looked at him with forced patience. "Go put those street skills to good use, see what our patient isn't telling us."

Rolling his eyes Foreman pushed back his chair and stood up. As he left, House turned back to the board. "Cameron, go do an MRI, see if there's anything interesting that shows up that the CT missed."

With a sigh Cameron pushed her chair back and stood up. Then she leaned close to Chase, and moved to set her hand on his. When he pulled his hand back, settling it in his lap with a pointed look, she pressed her lips together in an effort to hide her hurt expression. "I just wanted you to know," she said softly under her breath. "That if you ever want to talk, I'm here. And… I know how hard it can be to open up…"

"Hello?" House stared at her with bug eyes, hand extended towards the door. "MRI? Patient? Suffering from seizures?"

She dropped her eyes. "I just wanted him to know… "

"Thank you, Cameron." Chase said quickly, offering her a smile. "I appreciate that."

Blinking, she looked down at him, and then a small smile crossed her face. A moment later she left.

Once more it was just House and Chase.

"And I," House announced. "Am going to go inspect the cafeteria, make sure it's not something toxic in the hospital food." He raised his eyebrows and proceeded to limp out.

Left alone, Chase leaned back in the wheelchair and closed his eyes. His pain medication was wearing off, and his body was definitely letting him know.

"You okay?"

Chase jerked his head up, eyes snapping open. The motion made him wince and press his left hand to his ribs. "Yeah," he said, grimacing. "I'm fine."

Cameron stepped closer, studying him. "You've been breathing shallowly all morning."

"Ah– broken rib, remember?"

"You need to make sure you take several deep breaths every day." She said. "Otherwise you could get pneumonia."

"I know." He nodded, and picked up a magazine to read. Message: conversation over.

"I'm serious, Chase. This is _not_ me trying to be sympathetic."

Not looking up, Chase held the magazine open. "Look, I said I know. I'm a doctor too."

She sighed. "I'll catch you later."

Waiting until she left, Chase couldn't help but feel bad for how short he'd been. Just because she could be a little too touchy-feely didn't mean he shouldn't listen to her. He knew– she was right about the breathing. Steeling himself, Chase pulled in a long, deep breath, and shut his eyes against the intense wave of pain. When he could pull in no more air he paused for a moment, then reluctantly began to release it. He did it all a second time, breathing in as deeply as he could and breathing out as much as possible. By the time he was done he was seeing spots, his left arm pressed tightly against himself.

Life sucked.

--

Later, alone in the conference room, Chase wheeled over to the door to see if Cuddy or any other boss was around, and then he removed himself from the chair and hobbled about on his crutch (since there was no one around to tell him otherwise)– getting his coffee, looking out the window, pulling down different books and magazines and flipping idly through them. Being in the chair made him feel terrifyingly vulnerable and helpless.

As the time passed his leg began to ache again, and he hissed, reaching down to press his hand to his thigh in an effort to ease it. It wasn't time for his next dose of painkillers; he had to wait. Still, the pain continued, and he found himself more than once reaching for his pocket where the little orange bottle was, always stopping just short of actually pulling it out.

It was nearly twelve-thirty when House and Cameron arrived, their voices drifting down the hall.

"She could have a tumor."

"I thought you said her MRI was clean."

"It was, but maybe it's not presenting in the brain…"

Quickly, Chase limped to the end of the table where he'd left his chair, and he sat down just in time.

House eyed him when he entered, the skin between his brows wrinkling slightly, but he said nothing and continued on to the white board.

Cameron had no such reserve.

"Chase, what's wrong?" she asked, her forehead lined with empathetic concern. "Are you okay?"

He glanced at her belligerently. "Yeah. Why?"

"You look exhausted!" Standing she started towards him. "And you're white–"

Grabbing the wheels of his chair he rolled himself back a turn, gazing guardedly at her. "I'm fine." He said.

"Are you sure? You're still recovering, maybe you should–"

"I'm… fine… Cameron."

She stopped. "I'm just trying to–"

"Back off."

"But–"

"Dr. Cameron! Would you please update Dr. Chase on the condition of our patient?" House cut in, loudly.

Cameron turned sharply away, returning to her seat at the table. "MRI was normal."

"There was nothing?" Chase asked, sighing inwardly. He had taken it out on her again. Why couldn't she just follow the 'rules'?

She shook her head. "It's not neurological, whatever it is."

"Have we heard back from Foreman?"

"Nope. Which hopefully means he's finding something interesting." House said with raised eyebrows, turning to the board. "So, dizziness, blackouts, seizures, and a clean brain. Suggestions?"

"It could be Multiple Sclerosis, or Lupus."

"Or it could be Epilepsy." Chase countered. "Or Central Nervous System Oxygen Toxicity."

Cameron frowned. "What about Parkinson's?"

"Hmm. So many to choose from." House mused. There was a ringing in his pocket. Grabbing his cell phone he flipped it open and set it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"_House, I know what's wrong with her._"

--

Cameron walked down the hall to the patient's room. The woman looked at her wearily, her dark hair lying tangled against the pillow, shadows under her eyes, yet she still offered Cameron a small smile.

"How am I doing?"

"Actually, you're going to be doing great." Cameron smiled, walking over and stopping beside her bed. When the patient looked at her questioningly she offered, "You have Carbon Monoxide poisoning."

"Carbon Monoxide?" her brows pulled together. "Like from car exhaust?"

"Yes," Cameron agreed. "Although that's not how you got it. There's a small leak in your apartment, which exposed you for a long period of time until it finally built up enough in your system to send you here. The good news is the cure is very simple. We'll put you on oxygen for a little while and you'll be as good as new."

Her face relaxed in relief. "And the leak?"

"Your furnace is not venting properly. It's actually leaking some exhaust into your home." Cameron explained. "Get that fixed and install a carbon monoxide detector, you'll be fine."

"Thank you."

She smiled. "Don't thank me. My colleagues are the ones who figured it out; I just get to deliver the news. Now let's get you on that oxygen."

--

Chase wheeled towards the wall where he'd set his crutch. Pushing himself up he grimaced, then hissed, holding his left thigh. Stupid cut. As he got his crutch and caught up his coat from the back of the chair his brow pulled together. Just a little longer till dosage time…

A motion and small sound at the door made him look up, and there was Eloise, a coffee in each hand, leaning against the doorframe. He smiled, and she smiled back. "Hey."

"Hey." Pushing herself upright she stepped into the room. "How was work?"

"Good. One of the fastest cases we've ever done, but good." Chase limped toward her. "House will probably spend the rest of the day disappointed that it wasn't something more complex."

She chuckled, walking beside him out of the room and down the hall.

Back at the apartment Chase was tucked into his chair with a blanket and his coffee, and Eloise went to the kitchen to put away the groceries she'd picked up. Taking a sip of the hot beverage Chase settled his head back and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth spread through him. The painkiller he'd taken in the car started to kick in, the aches and pains fading. Sitting there, in the silence with only Eloise's humming to break it, he found his thoughts skimming back over the morning– and pausing when they reached Cameron. Yes, her idea of comfort could be a little stifling, and she wasn't exactly following the rules. But he could've been nicer. Isn't that who he was, anyway? The nice guy? If he wanted any chance with her he had to make sure he didn't blow it by snapping at her. The coffee thing this morning was a little frustrating, but she could learn those things. House, on the other hand– Chase wasn't sure what to make of that.

It was almost five when Chase suddenly looked up from his book and stared at the clock. "Crap!"

Eloise looked up from her pile of magazines, her forehead crinkling as she watched him throw back his blanket, toss his book on the side table, and grab his crutch– all done in as fast a manner as his ribs and other various injuries would allow. Which was not very fast. As he hobbled across the room to the phone, a look of panic on his face, she sat up straight.

"Is everything okay?"

"No! Everything's not okay!" Chase dialed and set the phone to his ear, turning towards her. "House is coming and I forgot to order the pizza!"

Though she pressed her lips together a giggle still escaped her.

"What? It's not funny– if he shows up and discovers I forgot–" Even as he protested her reaction, somehow– watching her shake with mirth– the gravity of the situation began to recede, and he felt a laugh start to bubble up though he continued his protests. "Seriously, do you have any idea what he'll do to me?"

Eyes now tightly shut, Eloise shook with silent laughter, tipping onto her side. "You… are… such… a wuss!" she gasped.

Chase finally began to chuckle, shaking his head. As a voice on the other end of the line finally answered, his attention turned back to the job at hand. "Yes, I'd like to order some pizza for delivery, please."

When the pizza had been ordered, Chase hung up the phone. "Lord, I _am_ a wuss."

"A big wuss." Eloise agreed with a straight face.

Chase pointed at her as he made his way back to his chair. "_He scares me_. I should think you would understand, knowing him for so long."

"He's only scary sometimes." She curled up on the couch with a magazine again. "The rest of the time he only _looks_ scary."

By the time House showed up at six the pizza had arrived, much to Chase's relief. Eloise answered the door, and House hobbled in with a case of beer under his left arm and another one in his hand.

"And just what do you have planned for tonight?" Eloise asked, looking pointedly at the beverages.

"Beer, pizza, and _drugs_." House replied, looking wickedly delighted. "I've got the beer and the drugs. Chase has the pizza. It's gonna get _wiild_!"

Rolling her eyes Eloise took the cases from him and set the beer on the coffee table. "Two cripples on their night in. Rock on!"

Chase hid a smirk as House gave her narrowed yet amused glare. "Sorry. Boys only."

"That's okay." She smiled sweetly at the older doctor. "I'll just snag some of this beer and pizza and spend the evening with my laptop. There's an online game calling my name." Putting some pizza on a plate she then grabbed a beer, but before she headed for the bedroom she leaned in close to Chase. "If he starts to bother you, trip him with your crutch and holler for help."

"Hey– online game? 'Eloiiise! Eloiiiiise!'"

Chase smiled at the older man's tone, and gave her a nod. A moment later she was gone, and the bedroom door clicked shut.

Alone with House, he wasn't sure what to do or say. Nothing like this had ever happened before; well, House had visited with Foreman, but that had been different. It had been Foreman's idea, and they had been putting together a plan of action. This was House, and only House. And there was no plan.

Grabbing two beers, House held one out to him. "Here. Before it starts getting warm."

Taking it, Chase popped the top off and took a drink.

House grabbed a slice of pizza and shoved a decent amount into his mouth and took a bite, his eyes widening. "Oh! This is good!" he nodded at Chase, chewing. "_You_ order great pizza."

Sitting back Chase eyed him, waiting. "Thanks?"

"Hm hm." House chuckled, and sat down on the couch. He stared at the bedroom door. "Bet you twenty bucks she's in there looking up hot guys."

Chase rolled his eyes. "C'mon, House. Eloise isn't like that."

"How do you know? Do you monitor her internet usage?"

"_I can hear you, House. And FYI, the guy I'm looking at is one HOT blond._"

"Cop? Fireman?"

"_He's got a lab coat and a stethoscope._"

"Oo–" House's eyes widened as he looked at Chase. "A doctor."

"_A doctor with gorgeous eyes!_"

House frowned. "Is he a Brit?"

There was a chuckle. "_Close enough._"

"Does he like crossword puzzles?"

"As a matter of fact he does!"

Chase looked back and forth between the door and House. Were they…? Chase's eyebrows drew down in a frown. His cheeks grew warm. He decided to ignore them, taking another drink from his beer.

There was a loud exhalation of air. House had tipped his head back on the couch, and now lifted it, puffing out his cheeks and looking around the apartment.

Chase glanced around, the uncomfortable tension in the room growing. Neither man said anything for several minutes.

"So," Chase finally ventured. "The case…"

"Yeah. Carbon monoxide poisoning. Weird, huh?"

There was silence again. Suddenly House made a face and looked around. Locating the remote at the end of the couch he nabbed it and raised his hand, turning on the TV. Chase settled back in his chair as a basketball game appeared on the screen. He hadn't actually expected House to share what Chase had made him 'remember' earlier that day; if House decided to share at all it would be in his own way in his own time. For now the game on the TV was enough to break the awkwardness, and Chase was surprised at how comfortable it actually was to watch basketball with House, cheering on whatever team they happened to like at the moment, exclaiming over bad calls and complaining loudly, eating pizza and drinking two more beers and then switching to Mountain Dew.

--

It was three in the morning. The clock beside his bed confirmed it when Chase cracked open one eye to see what horrific hour someone was paging him at. With a groan he turned his face back into the pillow and clapped the edge to his ear, trying to block out the sound that had woken him, but it reached him even there. Something shifted against his back, warm and soft, and there was a sleepy sigh.

"What is it?"

"My pager." He released the pillow and stared up at the dark ceiling morosely. "Sorry– could you grab it for me?"

"Sure," her eyes weren't even fully open as she pushed herself to her hands and knees, hair rumpled with sleep. Leaning over him in her pink tank top and kitten pajama pants, she managed to catch the pager on the side table, her movements clumsy, and she peered at it through half-open eyes. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to read it in the dark. "Something– about– a wrong diagnosis?"

Chase's eyes flew open, the last shreds of sleep disappearing. "Oh no."

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 20**

"What's wrong with her?"

Three sets of eyes turned to him as he hobbled into the room on his crutch, hot cup of coffee held against his chest with his right arm. Without acknowledging the concern in two of the gazes and the intense scrutiny of the other, Chase continued on to the table. Propping the crutch under his left arm he used his now free hand to move the hot beverage to the table, and then he pulled out a chair. And paused. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"You know– you don't _have_ to be here…"

"I'm fine. I'm here. What's wrong with her?" Chase insisted, removing the crutch from under his arm. "Pager said 'wrong diagnosis.'" He grunted as he lowered himself into the chair. His brows pulled together, and he glanced down at his left leg. Checking his watch he reached into his pocket and pulled out his orange pill bottle. "I assume that means our patient doesn't have Carbon Monoxide poisoning."

"Nope. That diagnoses was right." House announced, pulling the top off of his marker with a flourish. "But it's also– _wrong_."

"How can that be?" Foreman frowned.

Cameron watched as Chase shook two pills into his hand and dry swallowed them, grimacing as he held his left thigh.

"It's wrong because it's not what's actually wrong with her." House turned his back on them and wrote on the board. "Patient's headache and dizziness are gone, but not the seizures. So!" he turned back. "Differential diagnosis, anyone?"

"It's not neurological. MRI and CAT scans were clean." Cameron stated.

"It's not a toxin. Follow-up blood tests were clean." Foreman said, frowning.

House furrowed his brow in frustration. "Stop telling me what it's _not_ and start telling me what it _is_."

"But we don't know what it is."

"Midnight."

House turned to Chase.

"M-I-D-N-I-T." Chase clarified.

"Good." House wrote the letters on the board vertically. "Metabolic," he muttered. "Inflammation, degenerative, neoplastic, infection, and… trauma." He straightened. "There. Start from the top."

"It's not metabolic." Cameron said. "All of the tests were normal– LFT's, BUN, creatinine…"

"Right." House x'd it out. "Next."

"MRA ruled out vasculitus, so not inflammation." She continued.

"Not degenerative." Foreman said. "Tests were normal."

"Not neoplastic. Her brain is clean." Cameron added.

"No fevers, no elevated white cell count– not an infection."

"What about trauma?" House asked.

"She's fine." Cameron insisted. "Not a mark on her."

"Okay," House ground out, forehead creasing with thought. He heaved a long breath. "Chase, go and talk to her. See what she's not telling us."

"But– I already took a patient history." Cameron objected. "I don't think she's hiding anything. She even told me about the pot she smoked in high school."

"Yes; because it was in _high school_. It doesn't matter anymore." Nodding at Chase, House tipped his chin towards the door. "Go."

Chase paused for a moment, then grabbing his crutch he stood. "What's her name? Her _first_ name?"

--

The woman was laying in bed, curled up on her side, her back to the door. Chase hobbled in on his crutch and paused, watching the morose figure in the middle of the room. Slowly he made his way closer, the soft shuffling of his steps and light tap of the crutch catching her attention. She turned. Her eyes were shadowed, her lashes damp. Evidence of a recent cry.

"Hi."

"Hi." Chase said softly. He stopped beside her bed, gazing down at her, and then he glanced around and awkwardly pulled a chair over, and carefully and even more awkwardly sat down. She watched him. Chase winced as his thigh pained sharply, and he reached down with his hand to hold it while he got comfortable, moving slowly for his rib's sake. Settled he leaned back and looked at her. She looked back.

"Miranda, right?"

She nodded, and the corner of her mouth pulled as she sniffed. "You're Dr. Chase?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"The other– Dr. Cameron– she was telling me about you."

Chase shifted and tipped his head. "Only good things, I hope."

"Yes. She says you're a good doctor."

Chase nodded. "I should thank her for the compliment."

She smiled weakly. It didn't reach her eyes.

It was quiet. Chase watched her, his eyes studying her– the lines of stress around her eyes and her mouth, the pallid color of her skin, the dark shadows that betrayed restless sleep and wakeful nights. She held her left hand in her right, clutching it close to her, her fingers rubbing the knuckles. She stared at him, as though by staring at him she could make something right, she could make what was wrong with her okay. As though she could communicate with him through her eyes, because she didn't know what words to say.

"So Miranda," his voice was gentle, but still of normal pitch and volume. "Where do you work?"

She blinked, her head and shoulders shifting on the pillow so she could better see him. "A publishing company. We do educational materials, studies on literature. I'm a representative, the one they send on business trips to sell our product to school teachers."

"Really? Sounds like you're a valuable employee."

"I've been with them for eleven years. What about you?" she seemed to be relaxing. "How did you end up here, in America?"

"A phone call, from my Dad." Chase answered, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "He called to tell Dr. House not to accept my application. So of course House did."

A hint of humor flickered in her eyes. "He sounds like a contrary man."

"He is, in many ways." He agreed.

"Does that make it hard to work for him?"

Chase tipped his head, thinking for a moment before answering. "Yes and no."

Miranda's brows pulled together in puzzlement.

"It was hard at first; I always got into trouble, and he was always ridiculing everything I said."

"And now?"

"I get in trouble and he ridicules everything I say." He smiled when she laughed. "But I know how he is now, I know what to expect, and– I'm okay with it. It's actually a comfort, in a way. He's blunt and honest, to a fault, but then I always know where I stand."

"So it's a comfort working for a jerk?" she smiled.

Chase chuckled. "It does sound strange when you put it like that."

Glancing at his crutch and arm sling, Miranda looked up at him. "Was it a car accident? Dr. Cameron mentioned you'd been in an accident."

Dropping his eyes, Chase didn't answer. He wasn't sure how much Cameron had shared, though it didn't appear to be much, but in a way that only made it that much harder– now he had to decide what to tell her.

Miranda took his silence the wrong way. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked– never mind."

"No," Shaking his head Chase looked up at her. He decided to be honest– to a point. Perhaps sharing might help him connect with her, figure out what they were missing. "I– was attacked. A man had it in for me, I guess."

Her eyes grew wide, looking again at the full extent of his injuries. "All of this from one attack?"

"No." Chase said slowly. "He had me for two days."

"Oh!" she gasped, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh– I am so sorry!"

Her left hand was no longer covered, and Chase saw a gold ring on her finger, with a single, small diamond. His head tipped, his eyes studying the ring. There was no mention in her file about a husband, though when she had been admitted to the hospital she had introduced herself as Mrs. Stevenson– Suddenly something clicked, the missing piece falling into place.

"_Mrs._ Stevenson?"

Her face stilled, her right hand going unconsciously going to cover her left. She swallowed.

Chase's gaze was soft. "What happened?"

Her throat worked hard, her eyes filling even as she looked away, blinking rapidly. Finally she spoke, her voice choking on her words. "I was working late, and he decided to bring me dinner. He packed a picnic basket, even got me flowers." Her voice rose to a terribly high pitch on the last word, her eyes glistening. A tear rolled down her cheek. "It was raining, and– someone ran a stop sign–" She licked her lips. "He died at the hospital."

Chase glanced down for a moment, then lifted his gaze back to her. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "When did it happen?"

"A month ago." Her throat worked again as she tried to keep the tears at bay, but she couldn't, and covered her face with her hand as she started to weep.

Chase closed his eyes, and silently prayed for a moment. Then he carefully leaned forward slightly, laying his hand on the bed next to her. "I'm so sorry."

At first there was no reaction, then suddenly she sat up and leaned forward, putting her arms around his neck. She was careful not to hurt him, but her embrace was almost desperate, her face pressed to his shoulder as she sobbed. At first Chase wasn't sure what to do. Then he hesitantly put his hand to the back of her shoulder.

"I miss him so much!"

Chase nodded, holding her gently. "I know."

"I just– I feel like I'm dying inside, like there's this hole inside of me that keeps getting bigger and bigger…" her breath hiccupped. "There's something wrong with me, isn't there? I really am dying. I'm sick."

Chase shook his head. "No." he said. "You're not sick. You're not sick at all."

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

****Chapter 21**

House was impatient. As much as he loved the difficult cases sometimes he really hated them, especially when there were no clues of any sort to put together. Chase had been with the patient for quite some time, much longer than he should have been. That meant that either his blond Aussie doc had collapsed again, or he had stumbled upon their very first clue. House sincerely hoped it was the latter.

By the time Chase finally showed up, moving slowly on his crutch and looking weary, House had taken to throwing a ball against the wall of his office, making a loud and repetitive thumping noise that was slowly getting on the nerves of his other two employees.

Foreman looked up, relief on his face. "It's about time." He said, and turned. "House! He's back!"

The thumping noise stopped, and Cameron sighed, muttering something that sounded like "hallelujah" under her breath.

The door to the office swung open, and the man himself strode out, his blue eyes burning with intensity. "Well?"

"No drug use, no secrets, and no _physical_ trauma." Chase announced, pulling out a chair and carefully lowering himself onto it.

House's brows pulled together. His interest was piqued. "No _physical_ trauma?"

"Her husband died in a car crash last month."

"Ah," House drawled.

"Add to that a nice heaping pile of guilt and you've got a recipe for depression."

"Why would she feel guilty?" Cameron asked, her eyes widening with sympathy.

"She was working late, so he was bringing her dinner."

A pained expression crossed Cameron's face.

House clattered his cane on top of the table. "Alright! New theory: she's lying. Her previous seizures were real, caused by the carbon monoxide poisoning. Then we cured her and sent her home. No more attention. So she fakes a seizure and gets readmitted."

"Munchausen syndrome." Cameron said, remembering Anica, a patient they had who would use drugs to self-induce seizures.

Foreman didn't look convinced. "I don't know–"

Chase, who had been quiet, his brow furrowed as he thought, muttered to himself, "Emotional trauma." he looked up. "There's nothing wrong with her."

Everyone turned to him.

"Right." House mocked. "Because healthy people have seizures. In fact, I just had one in my office. It's relaxing. Like yoga."

Chase shook his head. "Psychogenic Nonepileptic Seizures."

Foreman raised an eyebrow. "Seizures caused by emotions?"

Raising his hand, Chase explained. "The facts fit. Other than the carbon monoxide poisoning, she was perfectly healthy. We took care of the poisoning. There's nothing else wrong, _except_ for the fact that she just lost her husband."

Cameron nodded. "And one of the causes of psychogenic nonepileptic seizures is emotional trauma."

House thought about it for a moment, then tipped his chin. "I like it. It's rare, and it's crazy."

"Okay, so– how do we prove it?" Cameron asked.

Foreman tapped the table with his knuckles. "Easy enough. We monitor her brain during a seizure. If Chase is right, then her brain patterns will corroborate."

House nodded, and by his expression it was clear that his mood was much improved. "Great. Go test the sad lady."

Foreman and Cameron rose from the table and quickly left. Chase sat by himself, tracing invisible patterns on the table's surface. The coffee he had arrived with still sat before him, long cold. House turned toward his office; a handheld game with his name on it was waiting to be defeated.

--

Cameron and Foreman sat in the observation room, watching both Miranda and the monitors. "So what do you think?" Cameron asked. "Is Chase right?"

Foreman tipped his head. "Well– the indicators are there. And going back through the patient's file, it seems that she never experienced a seizure when she was alone; only with other people. And her recovery time once the seizure ended was almost instantaneous."

Cameron sighed, watching the woman lay in the room. Nothing was happening. She began to wonder if anything _would_ happen. Turning on the intercom she asked: "How are you feeling, Miranda?"

"_Fine_." Came the reply. "_A little strange– laying here, in a paper gown, with all of these wires_–" there was a weak chuckle, and Miranda's foot twitched slightly. "_Feel a little bit like I'm on display_."

"As soon as we finish the test we'll take you back to your room." Cameron said, her voice kind and slightly amused.

Miranda nodded, then bit her lip. She looked scared.

Cameron paused, then turned on the intercom again. "I lost my husband too." She said quietly.

Miranda turned her head, her eyes searching the observation window. "_I'm sorry_." She said. Her shoulder jumped. "_What– what happened_?"

"Cancer." Cameron swallowed. "We were only married six months."

"_Oh_!" The older woman blinked rapidly. "_I'm so sorry! I'm so sor- so- s–_" Suddenly she began to twitch, her arms and leg spasming.

"Miranda?" Cameron called through the intercom. When Miranda barely acknowledged her, and the spasming got worse, Cameron jumped up. "Watch the monitors!" She told Foreman before running into the other room. Carefully she rolled the woman onto her side, but frowned as she watched the movements of the woman's body. First one side of Miranda's body would spasm, and then the other, and though her eyes were rolled up her face was not contracting in any way. Suddenly her mouth opened, and she shrieked.

Foreman's voice echoed through the room. "_Cameron, the seizure's not epileptic. Chase was right._"

--

Miranda lay back on the pillow of her hospital bed, frowning as she stared at the doctor. "The seizures– aren't real? I'm imagining them?"

Foreman shook his head. "No, they're real. But they're not caused by any physical disorder."

She still looked confused. Sighing, Foreman sat down on the edge of her bed and tried to explain. "Sometimes intense emotions can manifest themselves in physical symptoms. Like when someone is stressed, they get an ulcer. In your case, your grief and the trauma of your husband's death has manifested itself as these seizures."

Nodding, Miranda bit her lip, her gaze clearing as she understood. "So– is there anything we can do?"

"Yes." Foreman said, and offered her a small smile. "We'll be putting you on an anti-depressant for a little while to help with your depression, and we'll set you up with a grief counselor."

"Okay." Pushing her dark hair from her face, Miranda visibly relaxed. For the first time, her eyes seemed to clear. "So I'm not going crazy or going to die."

Chuckling, Foreman shook his head.

--

After Eloise picked Chase up at one they stopped by the park. She had made a picnic lunch, complete with dessert, and had even brought a loaf of bread so they could feed the geese. As they sat eating Chase told her about the case, and the startling yet simple conclusion. All in all it was still one of the fastest cases they had worked on. Eloise listened with sympathetic ears, her head tilted, her hazel eyes bright in the afternoon sun. "The poor woman." She said when the story was done.

Chase nodded. "Wilson is putting together a list of some grief counselors for House."

Eloise raised her eyebrows.

Chase noticed her look, and shook his head. "No," he said, tossing a balled-up napkin at her. "For House to refer Miranda to."

Chuckling, Eloise turned her head to avoid the paper-ball. "Too bad. Sometimes I think a little counseling would do him good."

"Nah." Chase shook his head. "He likes playing games too much. He'd make every session a game of Balderdash."

"He'd win it every time." Eloise grinned, leaning her elbows against the table and crossing her arms.

Chase smiled, then his gaze upon her became soft and thoughtful. "Do you really have to go?" he said.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Eloise looked down. "Well, it's a little hard to work at the hospital in New York if I'm still here in New Jersey."

"That's not what I mean."

She looked up. "I know." She said quietly. "Chase, you'll do fine. In twelve days you won't need me to stay with you."

"Yeah, and just who am I going to talk to?" Chase looked back at her, his expression tight, his brows pulled together in a frown.

"We've been over this." Sighing, Eloise pushed a piece of brown hair behind her ear. "What about Dr. Cameron?"

Chase didn't answer.

"Robert, if you're going to have any kind of a relationship with her you have to open up and let her in." Eloise set her hand in the center of the table, and was rewarded with the feel of his hand closing over hers. "You're the one who made me realize that the best things in life always come with risk. That's why I quit my job at Princeton General, why I finally had the courage to stand up to my boss and get away from Michael." There was a twinge in her expression as she said Michael's name, but it was quickly gone. Then she took a deep breath. "If you really love her, Robert, then go for her."

For a moment it was silent. Then Chase swallowed. "What if she only wants to be with me because– of IT?"

"If she's worth anything, she'll want to be with you no matter what." Eloise stated firmly, and then she leaned forward. "Even if you're well and healthy."

Despite the nervous weight that seemed to settle in his chest at the thought of him and Cameron together, Chase chuckled.

--

The next week seemed to fly by. Eloise spent the mornings at her apartment getting everything packed and organized for the moving company. The afternoons were mostly spent the same way, since Chase insisted that he could help with the little things. His injuries were healing nicely, and his strength was coming back– another reason he insisted on helping her pack. The movement was good for him. He spent most of his time sitting at her kitchen table putting the stacks of items she gave him into boxes.

While Eloise worked on the bigger things, Chase found himself packing the smaller things– nick-knacks, pictures, books, and the like. Eloise carried the boxes once they were full. She hummed while she worked, and as she moved to a familiar tune Chase found himself singing along, albeit quietly and for his own ears. It wasn't until he saw her out of the corner of his eye, as he carefully packed photos into a box, that he realized she was watching him. She was leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed as she listened.

"Oh, don't stop." She begged, and smiled. "You have a wonderful voice."

He felt his cheeks warm slightly. "Thanks."

"Do you sing?"

"No," he shook his head, laughing at the idea. "But I play– or, played the violin, though."

"Really?" Her eyes sparkled. "And you never shared this talent with me?"

"Well…" he put the photo in his hand into the box. "To be honest, I don't play much. Not for a long time."

"Why not?" Eloise went to the counter and began making some coffee.

"I don't know." Chase frowned as he wondered, why _had_ he stopped?

There was a tsk from the counter. "You keep frowning so hard and your face will freeze like that."

Chase rolled his eyes, then went back to packing the photos. "So _that's_ what happened to House."

Eloise laughed.

The coffee pot gurgled and hissed and sputtered, and finally a rich, heavy aroma filled the room. Chase lifted his chin and sniffed appreciatively. Smiling, Eloise poured them each a cup, omitting cream or sugar in either. As she sat down and handed him his cup, Chase accepted it and then squinted one eye at her. "So– I'm thinking about asking Cameron to dinner." He ventured slowly.

Her expression did not change. "Really?" She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of coffee.

He nodded. "I know she likes classy things, like high-end restaurants and flowers, but she also likes things that are more– rough?"

Eloise frowned in confusion.

"Like monster truck rallies."

"Ohh."

"What should I do?"

She blinked at him, and then cocked her head to one side. "Why Doctor Chase, are you asking me for dating advice?"

He shrugged. "Well, I figured you _are_ a girl,"

"Thank you for noticing!"

"And I figured who better to ask advice from on how to date a girl than another girl?"

"Hm. Well." Eloise pursed her lips as she thought. "If it were _me_ on a first date, I would want someplace nice but cozy, maybe intimate, where we would feel free to talk about anything. Dressy, but not formally-constricting."

Chase nodded, making a mental note. "Anything else?"

She smiled at him. "Compliment her choice of jewelry, or her dress. Make small talk, get to know her. You're smart, Robert, you know how to act around a lady. You'll be fine."

Drinking his coffee, Chase sincerely hoped she was right.

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 22**

Cameron was standing at the counter in Diagnostics, making coffee. She glanced up as Chase entered the room, then quickly looked back to the coffee maker, pressing her lips together. Dropping the spoon and bag of coffee grinds to the counter she stepped back and walked quickly to the table. "Sorry." Se murmured. "I know it's your job to make the coffee– or, at least, you always do it– I wasn't trying to coddle you or anything, I just came in early–"

Chase eyed her in amusement, pulling out a chair and slowly sitting down into it. "It's okay." He said, and pulled out an orange pill bottle from his pocket after checking the clock. "You alright?"

"Yeah." She smiled at him, but her composure was forced, her entire body taut with nervous tension. "I'm fine."

His one eye squinted. Tipping a white pill into his hand he dry swallowed it, still studying her. Cameron looked away, squirming under his intense scrutiny. "No you're not."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?""

"You know, I laid out those rules for a reason." Chase said. He dropped his voice as she turned her head, her jaw tightening. "I just– I needed things to be as normal as possible. Otherwise I would be constantly thinking–" He paused.

Cameron didn't say anything, but her eyes lifted. She was listening.

"I didn't want to be seen as weak. And I didn't want to think about what happened any more than I had to." Chase traced a pattern on the table's surface; Eloise was right. If he wanted any chance with her, then he had to be honest. He took a deep breath. It was now, or never. Before he lost his nerve. "I didn't want you to want me just because you saw me as broken."

Her blue eyes snapped to him in surprise. "I don't…"

"I know your husband died of cancer after just six months." Chase continued. "I guess– I was afraid."

She looked shocked. For a moment she was silent, and then she slowly sat down across from him, and laid her hand on the center of the table, barely an inch from his own hand. "I married him because I loved him." She said. "Not because he was a terminal case." There was another long pause. "I didn't know you felt about me that strongly."

Chase scoffed. "As if I haven't said it before."

"No– I knew that you liked me." Cameron clarified. "But I didn't know that you liked me so much that–"

As her voice trailed off, Chase raised his eyes to hers. Her lashes lifted, and her hand strayed fractionally closer. For a moment Chase did not respond, and then he took her fingers. He took a deep breath. "Allison, will you go out with me?"

--

Wilson squinted, trying to remember which pile he had placed a particular letter in. Leafing through the various paperwork, he was completely engrossed when suddenly there was a terrible, deafening cracking sound. When his heart discovered that it _was_ still beating and had not suffered some fatal attack, he looked up to find House peering at him through the glass of his balcony doors.

With a sigh, Wilson stood and went to the doors. "Yes?"

"Aren't you going to ask me in?"

"What do you want, House?"

The crippled doctor blinked in mock surprise. "What kind of host _are_ you?" he called through the glass.

Wilson sighed yet again, and opened the door, stepping outside before his friend could enter the office. "What?"

"Cameron's going on a date with Chase."

"Good." Wilson nodded, following House to the balcony railing. "He's getting back to normal, getting on with his life. What's the problem?"

"They work together."

"So did Steve and Terri Irwin. Didn't hurt them."

"Chase is no crocodile hunter." House frowned. "And even if he was, could you see _Cameron_ helping him wrestle a crocodile in the mud? In her little shorts? Although– that might be kind of hot–"

Wilson shook his head. "No, but I can see them turning into an incredible diagnostic duo. They could wear capes."

"Or spandex. I've always been a big fan of spandex. Especially on the ladies."

"Leave them be, House. Them getting together– this is good." Wilson turned to leave.

"Eloise cares for Chase."

Wilson stopped. His brows pulled together. "Eloise? You mean she cares for Chase beyond being a friend?"

House leaned against the short balcony wall; he didn't meet Wilson's gaze. "She made an amateur mistake. She fell in love with him. But he doesn't return her affection."

Blinking, Wilson stared at his friend. He folded his arms. "House, are you being protective?"

House snorted.

"Because it sounds like you're worried about this young girl getting romantically hurt. And like you disapprove of a match between Cameron and Chase."

"Of course I disapprove! Office relationships are never a good idea. They always bring trouble."

"You would mock, tease, and torment if this happened under normal circumstances. But you would never be concerned." Wilson eyed his friend. "You've admitted to caring twice now!"

"No I haven't." House turned to the oncologist with his usual cheeky, jaunty expression. "I've disapproved. _Big_ difference."

As House left, Wilson watched him with a smile, and then returned to his office.

Stalking away from Wilson's office, his destination unknown, House scowled. He _so_ did not care. But this was Eloise; she'd already had her heart broken. She didn't need it trampled on, too.

If Chase hurt her…

--

Eloise looked around her apartment. It was strange, seeing it so empty. All of the furniture was waiting in a moving truck, all of her belongings packed neatly into boxes. The only things not in boxes were the few things at Chase's place– and that would fit in the suitcase they came in. No problem there.

Closing the door, she locked it for the very last time.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk she took a deep breath of air, feeling free in some ways, and yet she couldn't shake the sense that she was making a big, huge mistake– a mistake that she would come to regret. The reason she knew very well, and she chided herself for it, shaking her head and muttering as she got into her car and began the drive to Chase's apartment. He was fine. He had Cameron. He loved Cameron. He was fine. _She_ was fine.

At least, she hoped so.

Her cell phone began to ring. Eloise grabbed it and held it to her ear, noting the incoming number. "Hey, Tom. What's up?"

"_Eloise. Is Dr. Chase around?_"

"Sorry, he's at the hospital. Why?"

"_It's concerning the trial. I really need to speak with him._"

Eloise frowned. "Did you page him?"

The detective's voice was sheepish. "_Yes, right before I called you. I was just impatient, I guess._"

"I guess so." She shook her head, turning left at the lights. "So this news– is it anything important?"

"_Yes._" There was a pause. "_It's about Edward._"

--

Chase looked up from the medical journal he was reading, sensing the dark storm clouds before his boss even entered the room. The look on House's face made him cringe; when House looked like that, everybody paid for it.

Oh no.

Quickly running through a dozen possible escape routes, Chase concluded that– since he couldn't very well _run_ away, his best course of action would be to just agree with whatever House said and keep his head down. Judging from Cameron's expression, she was thinking the same thing. Foreman looked vaguely exasperated, but there was enough of a hint in his expression to let Chase know that even Foreman was calculating an avenue of escape.

House rolled into Diagnostics with the aura of doom, crossing the room in a few steps. For a cripple, he sometimes had an amazingly long stride. Before he'd even gotten the top off of his dry erase marker, though, Foreman pushed back his chair and stood.

"I'm due in the clinic. Sorry." He nodded at House. "Let me know if we have a case."

Then he was gone.

Chase cursed Foreman's ability to just up and move. He wished he could do the same, but the last time he'd ended up with a cane in the wheels of his wheelchair and broken stitches. Who knew what House would do now that he wasn't so 'feeble.'

Cameron looked at him in helpless dilemma, torn between escaping and not leaving a man behind. Bravely, she opted for the latter. Pressing her lips together she turned to face House.

"_Do_ we have a case?" she asked.

"No." House snapped. "I just like holding the marker and scribbling on the board. Makes me feel important."

Chase raised his eyebrows.

"You. Cripple." House barked. "Find us a case."

His mouth opened. "Me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is there another handicapped person here? I must be going blind. Yes, you! See those emails on my computer? See that stack of mail requests? You have one hour."

"But…"

"And no helping him!" House pointed at Cameron, and then headed for the door. "You do and you're fired."

Her shaped brows pulling together, Cameron called. "Then what _should_ I do?"

A nametag suddenly flew through the air, smacking into her shoulder and falling into her lap. "I hear today's the day for elderly physicals!"

Then House was gone.

Cameron and Chase stared at one another.

"What was that about?" She asked.

"I have _no_ idea." He replied. Then he pushed his chair back and slowly rose to his feet. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a cop to call back and a mountain of paperwork."

--

House muttered to himself all the way to the cafeteria. He had no particular reason for going there; he wasn't hungry, it wasn't lunch, Wilson wasn't there, and neither was anyone else he usually cared to bother. So he stood there, in the center of the room, looking disgustedly about, his mood worsening. Finally he left, and went out to the lobby, pulling out his cell as he walked. After dialing and waiting a few rings, he was rewarded with the sound of a voice on the other end. The voice of the person who was at the heart of his foul mood.

At last.

"_Hello? House?_"

"Eloise. Get your butt over here. I'll meet you in the lobby."

"_What…?_"

"You have five minutes."

Then he hung up on her. Knowing Eloise she would be there in three minutes, heedless of the speeds she had broken and the lights she had missed in her hurry to make sure everything was all right. Sitting down on a cushion-covered bench, House waited.

Four minutes later, Eloise pushed her way in through the revolving door and ran to House's side, panting for breath, her eyes wide with worry.

"You're late."

She frowned, stopping in front of him. "What?"

"You could have been here in three minutes."

"I stopped for coffee." She retorted. "Now what's wrong? Is Chase okay?" a horrified and accusing look crossed her face. "You didn't knock his crutch out from under him, did you?"

"You're so paranoid." House stood up.

Eloise lifted her arms and dropped them. "Then _what's_ the emergency?"

"Emergency?" House raised an eyebrow, and turned and began walking. "I never said there was an emergency."

She followed him, her expression changing as she grew suspicious. "You told me to get my butt here. In five minutes. _Why_?"

"Because I didn't feel like waiting."

Eloise stopped. After the news she had just learned from Tom, she was in no mood for one of House's games. "House!"

House turned, the corner of his mouth lifting at the sight of her temper. Foul moods do love company. "That is my name, yes."

Her lips thinned; he was just toying with her. She didn't know why, but she didn't really care. "Fine. You know what, as long as I'm here, I'm going to see Chase."

"Can't. He's working."

"I'll only be a moment." She stepped close as she passed and lowered her voice. "I won't stop for coffee this time."

"Good. Wouldn't want to make people _wait_."

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me. _You_, on the other hand–"

"What about me?"

"Not very smart, you know, falling in love with a married man."

Eloise frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

House made a face at her, adding meaningful eyes to the expression.

"Chase?" She shook her head disbelievingly. "He's not married–"

"Oh, please." House mocked. "He's so tightly wrapped around Cameron's little finger he might as well be. 'Course, after your last failed attempt at a relationship, I guess I could see why you'd fall for an unavailable man. Can't get you're heart broken if he can't have it to break. He's safe. Plus, you're moving. No commitment issue there."

Eloise stared at him in utter disbelief and hurt. House had never said anything like that to her before– and bringing up Michael? After all that had happened? It hit a sore spot, and she flinched. "You're unbelievable." She whispered. Turning she walked away a few steps, and then she whirled around on him. "You know, I was actually in a fairly good mood before you called. I had some great, incredible news that made me feel freer than I'd ever thought possible. But could I enjoy the news, maybe celebrate a little? No! _You_ had to call, and play one of your sick games on me! So thank you, House."

As she brushed past him, tears in her eyes, House felt his anger drain away; in it's place was a shameful feeling. He closed his eyes. "He's an idiot."

Eloise paused.

"He could have had you, and he's letting you go."

She turned. There was a look of heartbreak on her face. "_I_ told him to ask Dr. Cameron out."

House frowned, his eyes suddenly very blue and intense as he limped towards her. "Why?"

"Because– because he shouldn't let his fear of how or why she has feelings for him get in the way of their being together. He's carried his torch for so long, and now he finally has a chance to act upon it."

House stared at her, hard, for a long moment. At last he nodded; she had made the choice, then. It wasn't just Chase. "Fine." He whispered. His gaze softened. "What about you?"

Eloise didn't answer right away. She blinked quickly, her eyes bright and shining. She smiled. "I'll be alright." She said. "I'm always alright."

As House watched her leave, he knew she was lying.

He was unusually quiet and solemn on his slow way back to Diagnostics. His mind was whirling, trying to sort through the facts and come to a satisfactory conclusion, but no matter how he went through it he always ended up right back where he was. With Chase going with Cameron, and Eloise alone. Curse the blond Aussie for his 'natural' charm! Curse Eloise for falling for him! And curse that sick, sick man for attacking Chase and starting this whole thing in the first place. It was all wrong.

Stalking into Diagnostics, House found Chase sitting in his office, absently scrolling through emails. _Him_. Doctor Robert Chase. House scowled, and burst in through the door.

"Time's up."

Chase glanced up at him, and then checked the clock. "Um– it's only been thirty minutes."

"Today's 'Half Day', where everything is done in halves. Time's up."

Subtly rolling his eyes, Chase gave up. "Okay. Fine."

"What've you found?"

"Uh– nothing yet. Only made it through part of the diagnostic requests."

"Great. You get an F-minus. Now out of my chair."

"I thought today was 'Half Day'?' Something wrong?"

"Uh– yeah!" House widened his eyes. "My office, my desk, my chair. Only I'm not sitting in it. You are."

"Okay; I'm getting up." Chase carefully lifted himself and tucked the crutch under his arm. Whatever or whoever had House bent out of shape, Chase hoped it was resolved soon.

House stuck out his cane, blocking Chase's path to the door. He had remembered something. "Your pager went off before I left. What was it?"

Chase stopped, and an enigmatic expression crossed his face. "It was actually the assistant detective; Tom Hannigan. Edward's dead. Seems he hung himself."

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 23**

Chase left. He had delivered the news calmly and matter-of-factly, and then he had excused himself, saying he needed the afternoon off. In the wake of his announcement House pace slowly, his eyes never leaving the door. Cameron stared blankly at nothing, and Foreman shook his head, leaning back against a file cabinet with his arms crossed.

"Man. That is psychotic."

"So he killed himself because he felt Chase betrayed him?" Cameron sounded confused.

House nodded absently. "He'd built up the idea of the perfect son. Not only did Chase fail at being a 'good son', he was fighting back, disowning his own 'father.'"

"So no trial." Foreman said. He had a pleased expression on his face. "You'd think he'd be happier."

Cameron looked at him with a frown. "Come on– this is Chase. You know how he is when someone dies; I don't think he knows _what_ to feel right now."

House didn't answer. Instead he turned and headed for his office. "Back to the clinic, you two! And don't bother me. I've got mail to go through, a case to find."

At first Cameron and Foreman didn't pay his remark much mind, though they did stand to return to the clinic; but then they saw House sit down at his desk and start to open letters; and _read_ them. They glanced at each other.

"Is– it just me, or has House been acting strange lately?" Foreman asked.

Cameron made a face.

--

Eloise was waiting for him in front of the hospital. She smiled softly at him as he carefully slid into the car, grimacing. "Hey," she said. "How you doing?"

Chase looked at her, and blew out a long sigh, an enigmatic expression on his face. "I don't know."

Eloise nodded. He didn't need to explain.

"Let's go home." She suggested.

As they drove, Chase settled back into the seat, his mind whirling between thoughts of Edward and thoughts of Eloise. It never occurred to him that upon learning of Edward's death, he had instantly wanted to go home to Eloise. He hadn't even thought of Cameron. All he knew was that he wanted the comfort and security of his own home. Somehow, that included Eloise.

Back at his apartment, with two glasses and an open bottle of white wine, Chase sat at the kitchen table cutting up a rutabaga and some carrots, while Eloise seasoned some chicken. They chatted as they made dinner, working together seamlessly. Eloise put the chicken in the oven and then put some potatoes on to boil, after washing and peeling them. Chase tossed the root vegetables in some oil and salt and pepper. When she took the pan and slid that into the oven, Chase started chopping purple cabbage.

As time went on and Chase found himself laughing at something Eloise was saying, he suddenly realized that he felt lighter– freer– like a great weight had been lifted from him. He could actually put his attack behind him. He could move on.

She took a sip of wine, and noticed the change in his expression. His eyes seemed so clear. He seemed so happy. For a moment she leaned back against the counter and just watched him, listening to him talk, savoring the way he said certain words with that accent of his, soaking in everything about him– his smile, the way his eyes twinkled and glowed, the sound of his laugh, his hands, his face. Her heart panged within her, and she quickly turned back to the stove.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was so soft and gentle– Eloise mentally slapped herself. _Get it together!_ she scolded. "Yeah." She turned and smiled at him. "I'm fine. I was just hoping you might play your violin here before I leave. I've only got four days, you know."

He grew less jubilant, becoming solemn instead. Then he seemed to shake himself. "Yeah, sure. I can't really play with my hand, but I have a recording, if you want."

"That would be great."

The awkward tension between them stayed. Finally Eloise turned and grabbed a fork, stabbing at a potato in the bubbling pot to see if it was done. "So, did you ask Cameron yet?"

"Yes. This morning."

"And?"

"She said yes, she would like to go to dinner with me."

"Oh. Good; good." Eloise stabbed at another potato.

The sound of chopping resumed. "I was thinking of taking her to Bacco's."

Her eyes brightened as she turned. "Oh– I love that place! They have the _best_ Italian food."

He nodded. "It's also an intimate setting– lots of little nooks with small tables and candelight. It's dressy, but not 'formally-constricting,' I think is the term."

Eloise smiled.

"Oh, here. The cabbage is cut. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Just sit there and look handsome." Eloise winked, taking the mound of purple cabbage and dropping it into a hot pan with oil and some green onion. As she stirred it she was aware of his eyes watching her. She poured the water off of the potatoes, and quickly mashed them, and when the cabbage and onion was softened she mixed it all together. "There." She said in satisfaction. "Colcannon, a traditional Irish food."

Chase clapped his hands appreciatively. "It all smells amazing." He said.

Later, after the delicious meal, he pushed back his plate with a sigh of contentment, and when all had been cleared away and washed he pulled out a home video a friend had taken of him playing the violin. It had been at a Christmas party, or something. Eloise leaned back in the couch cushions beside him, and watched with glowing eyes. He was so good! He seemed to be having so much fun, too– really getting into the fiddle music he was playing at the moment. Then he switched to something classical, and her heart melted.

When the video was over she glanced at him appraisingly. "That was wonderful!"

Chase looked slightly embarrassed. "It's okay."

"Okay?" Eloise shook her head. "No, no. It was amazing! Chase, you're really good."

A small smile touched his mouth. "Thank you."

He looked up, and she froze. His face was only inches from hers. She could feel the soft warmth of his breath; it made her skin tingle, and she shivered, her breath quickening. Her heart began to beat faster. Chase didn't move, but opened his lips slightly, and it seemed that he leaned closer– Eloise leaned closer too, lifting her face a little. They were so close she could almost feel his lips. Their noses brushed… Her lips parted…

Who moved back first they couldn't tell. Leaning back against the couch they stared anywhere but at each other, their breaths heavy. Eloise could feel her heart racing, her face flushed and warm.

"I think I should go to bed." She said.

"Yeah, me too." Chase agreed.

Clambering from the couch, Eloise stood and brushed back her hair, readjusting the hem of her zip-up hoodie. "Goodnight, Robert." She said, hurrying to the bathroom.

"Goodnight."

Alone, Chase stared at the ceiling, returning from the sudden fog he'd been in, his thoughts and senses clearing.

What on earth had just happened?

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 24**

The next few days went by quickly. They had a case which turned out to be a kind of brain cancer that, for some reason, in this particular instance was presenting itself in the spine, which was why they hadn't found it before. Then it was the night before Eloise was going to leave.

It was also the Big Night.

Chase met Cameron at Bacco's at seven. They were given a nice little table next to a window, a votive candle burning in a crystal holder in the center of the table next to a single red rose. Cameron looked beautiful in a little black dress and diamond earrings, her lips painted red and her eyes lined with black. She looked alluring, sexy, and Chase wondered why he had waited so long to ask her out.

They sat down, and for a moment just looked at each other.

Now what?

"You look beautiful." Chase commented. He lifted his hand. "Your hair looks good like that– pulled up. It shows off your face." For a moment he kicked himself. It 'shows off your face?' What was he thinking?

"Thank you." Cameron smiled, and tucked a piece of waved, loose hair behind her ear. "You look pretty good yourself." She indicated the pale blue shirt and grey sports jacket. "It brings out your eyes."

Chase nodded, trying to hide his pleasure at her comment. _Thank you, Eloise_. he thought, since she was the one who had suggested the blue.

As they glanced through the menu and made their choice they were silent, only speaking when the waiter came to take their order and bring them a bottle of red wine.

"So," Chase drawled when the waiter left. "I see House has got you doing his clinic hours for him."

She nodded. "He's trying to spice it up. Throws the nametag at me thirty minutes and forty-five seconds after he comes in. I think he's trying to change his schedule so he can catch you off guard once you're able to do clinic again."

"Ah. Well, thanks for warning me."

"You're welcome."

There was another pause. Cameron looked around and sighed, a small smile on her face. "This is a nice place. I've never been here before." She paused, and lifted her lashes, looking at Chase. "This is nice." She said. "I don't know why we waited so long."

_Well– because you had eyes for only House, and I was just a substitute?_ Chase thought, and then mentally shook himself. He didn't need to be thinking like that, not now. That didn't matter anymore. They were here. Finally.

"I don't know." He said. "Guess we were just too used to seeing each other as coworkers."

Cameron laughed. "Well, I'm glad that's changed."

Their food came. As they ate they continued to talk in short little conversations; mostly about work, about House, and the usual 'first date' questions: favorite food, night owl or morning person, what high school did you attend, most embarrassing moment, what did you want to be as a kid, etc., etc. By the end things had reached a level of comfort, but there was still a sense of professionalism– as if they couldn't quite let go of their need to be proper around each other. Still, it was a decent time. They packed up the remainder of their food, and went outside onto the dark street, lit by glowing street lanterns. There was a slight breeze, cool enough to make Cameron wrap her arms around herself. Before she left for her car she paused beside him, bathed in the golden light pooling out from the restaurant's windows.

"I had a good time tonight."

Chase nodded. "Me too."

For a moment nothing happened, and then Cameron bit her lip, and began to lean close. Chase closed his eyes and smelled the honey scent of her perfume, and then felt the softness of her lips on his. It was gentle, and sweet. When she pulled back they looked at one another for a moment, and then she smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He said. He watched her go, slipping into her car and driving away. For a moment Chase just stood there on the sidewalk, leaning on his crutch, the skin slightly creased between his brows. Then he shook himself, and hailed a cab.

--

Eloise was waiting up on the couch, a bundle of pins and needles, wrapped in a warm bathrobe and fuzzy purple socks. She had soothed her nerves with a combination of chocolate fudge ice cream and a cooking show called Ace of Cakes where she learned how to carve cakes into pretty much any sculpture she wanted, and then decorate it.

She glanced at the clock.

It was getting late.

When the door opened she clambered to her feet, setting the half-eaten carton of ice cream on the coffee table. "Hey! How'd it go?"

Chase looked up, shutting and locking the door behind him. "It was good." He said. But there was a confused wrinkle between his brows as he set his box of food on the kitchen counter.

Eloise cocked her head. "You sure?"

"Yeah; yeah, I just– I don't know. It seems like something wasn't right– like something was missing." Chase frowned, then shook his head. "I'm probably just imagining things."

Eloise eyed him curiously; well, something wasn't right. "What did you do?"

Chase limped in and slowly sat down on the couch. "We just sat and talked. We had red wine, I complimented her hair, said she looked beautiful, she complimented my shirt, we talked about work– She kissed me goodnight."

"Well, that sounds like a success to me." Eloise sat down next to him, hooking her one foot under her other leg.

"Yeah. Right." Chase was frowning again. She could almost see the wheels in his head turning, going over the events of the night over and over again, looking for a clue that probably wasn't even there.

"What is it?"

"The kiss–" he shifted, his frown deepening. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it wasn't bad– it was good. But it wasn't– great. Not like how I'd imagined it."

"Oh. Well, probably just chalk it up to first-date jitters." Eloise waved it aside. "You've been co-workers for how long now? It's bound to feel awkward at first, right? Just give it some time."

"Yeah. You're probably right." Chase sighed and pressed his fingers to his eyes. When he looked back up he was smiling. "You know, I need to thank you."

"Me?" Eloise looked surprised. "For what?"

"For helping me take that first step." His eyes were very blue as they held her, his expression soft. "Wasn't it you who said that the best things in life always come with risk?"

She smiled ruefully, gazing at him. "I think you said that first." She said in a quiet voice.

He shook his head. "I never said it. You did. You gave me the courage to take that risk with Cameron. Thank you."

Swallowing, Eloise gave him a smile. "You're welcome."

--

The next morning came far too early. Chase woke long before his alarm, when the pale pink and yellow of sunrise met the cool blues of the nightly shadows. There was a warmth at his back, a small hand gently resting on his shoulder. Chase didn't move; the sleeping arrangement they'd made when she'd first come to stay with him hadn't been necessary for a few days, but both had been loathe to give up the comforting presence of the other. If he moved, she would wake up, and then she would leave.

So he did not move.

How long he lay there, he did not know. He had silenced his alarm before it could go off, and had soaked in the warmth of the woman asleep beside him. At last she stirred, making a small, high sound as she stretched and yawned.

"Good morning." He whispered.

They ate breakfast in quiet, comfortable conversation. Her things had been packed the day before into her suitcase, and the moving truck was ready. There were subtle meanings in their words, little glances, miniscule touches of fingertips-to-hands. Then it was time.

Chase stood on the sidewalk with her, his coat buttoned closed against the morning chill. Eloise put her suitcase in the front of the truck, on the passenger seat, and then she approached him with her hands in her pockets. Her hazel eyes seemed especially green today, more so than brown, almost all color as her pupils contracted in the morning light.

She stopped in front of him, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't want to go." She suddenly said.

"I don't want you to." Chase replied in a whisper.

Tears filled her eyes, and she glanced away, taking several deep breaths and swallowing. As a tear spilled onto her cheek she looked up again. "Goodbye, Robert."

Chase put his arm around her, and they hugged. His face pressed into her neck and hair, and he closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. Raspberries.

Then she was pulling away, brushing tears from her face. She climbed into the truck, and then she was pulling away, towing her car behind the truck. As she turned at the end of the block she slowed down, and looked back, waving a hand. Chase returned the wave.

Then she was gone.

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 25**

"So. Eloise is gone." Wilson said, dishing up a salad next to his steak.

House limped to his side. "Yep."

"And Chase and Cameron are dating."

House watched as Wilson added a brownie to his plate and two cookies. His eyes grew dark.

Wilson tipped his head. "Sounds like everything worked out on its own."

"Uh huh." House grumbled, limping along the lunch line. "Only the wrong people ended up with the wrong people."

"Since when do you play matchmaker?"

"I am not playing matchmaker! I am diagnosing a problem. That's what I do. It's my _job_. And Chase and Cameron are _sick_."

"You're playing matchmaker." Wilson nodded at the cashier and paid. Then he turned and headed for a table, with House in tow. "She'll move on. She only knew Chase for a few weeks, and he never led her on, so… no harm no foul."

House scowled and snatched the two cookies. "How can you be so heartless?"

Wilson sat down with his food, looked up, and sighed. "If Chase had feelings for Eloise, don't you think he would have said something?"

"As if Chase knows what he wants." House sat down opposite his friend, rolling his eyes. "He's been carrying a torch for Cameron so long he's forgotten how to do anything else."

"Hmm." Wilson nodded, picking up his fork. "And Cameron could be noticing him because of his situation. She _is_ drawn to sympathetic cases."

"Yeah." House snorted, looking around. "All teary-eyed, hold me and tell me it's okay, make it all alright…" he stopped, frustration in his face, and then he slammed the end of his cane into the floor. He stood and stared menacingly around the room.

Wilson paused mid-chew, holding another forkful of steak. "What?"

House turned and looked down at his friend, then began to limp away.

A worried expression crossed Wilson's face. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take your advice. I'm going to _support_ him."

--

Chase looked up as Cameron set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. She smiled. "No cream, no sugar."

"Thanks." He accepted the coffee, and noted that it was strong, and it was fresh. Just the way he liked it.

Cameron extended her hand. "There's something I need to talk to you about in a little while, but right now I need to check on a patient. Are you free in a bit?"

"Yeah," Chase nodded. "Yeah, I'm just going to be here, writing reports."

"Okay." Giving him a smile, Cameron left.

For a moment Chase looked after her. After their date last night he was beginning to have some doubts about pursuing a relationship with her; mostly because he couldn't stop thinking of Eloise.

Eloise.

The thought of her made him ache all over again; he actually didn't want to go home after work, because he knew that the apartment would be empty. She wouldn't be there. They wouldn't have dinner together, watch a movie together, talk or read together. When he went to bed, there would be no slender arm wrapped around him, no warmth at his back, no fuzzy socks left in the middle of the bathroom floor…

Shaking his head, Chase hunched over the reports, feeling guilty. Here he was finally with the girl of his dreams, and he was thinking about another woman! What kind of man was he?

For a moment he suddenly had a flashback, hearing Edward's voice in his head: "_That Dr. Cameron is a good girl, a steady girl, a girl you can bring home! What do you think you're doing going after that dark temptress? What kind of man are you? She'll do nothing but bring you down, ruin your chances to settle with a good woman!_"

His pencil suddenly snapped in half.

Breathing out heavily in frustration Chase shook his head and dropped the pencil pieces to the table, then reached for his shirt pocket and pulled out a new pencil. He drank a large gulp of searing hot coffee, burning away the last vestiges of Edward's words.

Then he paused. _Was_ Cameron the girl of his dreams?

Last night there had been no sparks; no feelings of excited tingling; no desire to make the evening never end. When they had kissed– he replayed that moment in his mind. She had leaned towards him till she was so close he could feel her soft breath on his skin. Her eyes had slid closed, and her lips had parted– he looked for her breathless sigh, the flush of her cheeks, the pounding of his heart, the inability to breath as she drew closer. It was not there. Where was the desire that the moment would never end? There had been no disappointment when she had pulled away, only him puzzling over the obscure missing element.

What had made her so desirable to him? He thought back to how he had always pictured it. Then he realized that he had never actually envisioned the relationship part at all. He had simply fallen for the _idea_ of a relationship with her.

Not only that, but whenever anything happened to him, he ran from Cameron. Actually _ran_. How could he have thought he could build a relationship with someone he ran from?

Well, great.

He and Cameron didn't go together. If nothing had happened to him, she would never have even considered him, and if she hadn't come on to him all that time ago when she had stupidly tried some drugs, he probably would never have thought of asking her out.

Chase leaned back in his chair and snorted.

Cameron entered the room at that same moment. She approached him slowly, her expression strange– she was smiling, but there was a hesitancy there, apology and sympathy, too. "Hey."

"Hey."

She walked to the table and sat down, turning her chair so that she was facing him. "So," she started. "About what I wanted to talk to you about."

Chase waited.

"I had a really great time last night. Really, I did. But…"

"You feel nothing for me."

For a moment she looked surprised. Then she nodded. Her eyes were wide, waiting for his response. "I don't think it would work between us." She whispered.

A strange sense of freedom and relief filled Chase. He grinned suddenly, amused and rueful. "Me neither."

Cameron blinked. "You– you feel the same way?"

Chase nodded, trying to hold back his laughter. "I know– we're so perfect for each other, but– I don't think it would work at all."

She looked shocked, but then she laughed, and seemed to collapse from her rigid posture in relief. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her forehead. Then her perfectly shaped brows pulled together in confusion. "You've wanted to go out with me for so long."

Chase nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's not that I don't like you– I just– I don't _love_ you–"

Cameron shook her head. "So… now what?"

Chase leaned back in his chair. "Now we go back to being coworkers."

Nodding, Cameron stood. "Okay. So, maybe I'll see you next Tuesday." She gave him a little smile, and turned to leave.

"Coworkers _without_ benefits."

Cameron stopped, and turned to look at him. "Why? It's no strings. You know… getting back to normal."

Chase shook his head. "Not anymore. I want…" he paused. "More."

At first she seemed like she was going to say something, a hurt expression on her face; but Chase did not flinch. He simply sat there, a set look on his face. His decision had been made, and it was final. Pressing her lips together Cameron spun on her heel, and left.

Drinking his coffee, Chase went back to his work, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out House's difficult to read handwriting and even more enigmatic notes. Until a cane suddenly clattered onto the pile of papers, making him jump and slosh coffee on his hand. "House!" he exclaimed, grimacing as his still-aching ribs protested the movement. Shaking his hand he thanked providence that the coffee wasn't scalding anymore; else he would have been in major trouble.

"Jamie was a beautiful young woman. She had a job, a man, and a good home. Then one day she ended it all." House stopped and stared hard at the blond doctor. "Why?"

Chase gaped, staring at his boss in confusion. "I…"

"Because one night she and her man got into a fight, and she went for a walk that ended with a vicious assault. Her man didn't know how to handle the emotional fallout, so he closed off. Didn't want to risk doing the wrong thing. Jamie blamed herself for the attack, and then she blamed herself for driving her man away."

For a second Chase didn't get it; why was House telling him this?

House loomed over the doctor, his eyes piercing. "Don't make the same mistake I did." He said. His voice was low. "Some risks are worth taking."

With that, House grabbed his cane and marched into his office, closing and locking the door. Chase stared after him, his mouth hanging open as he tried to process what had just happened. Had House just opened up to him? What on earth did that story have to do with anything? Then Chase blinked. Was that what he had reminded House of earlier? When House had come over to his place and they had watched games on tv while eating pizza? It had to be…

_Some risks are worth taking_.

Huh. Where had he heard _those_ words before? A picture of a picnic in the park entered his mind, and then the image of a truck pulling away, and a slender hand waving goodbye. Suddenly, like a blinding flash of obvious, Chase realized what he should have realized before.

Holy crap.

* * *


	26. Chapter 26

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 26**

Cuddy looked up as Chase entered her office, and for a moment she blinked. The image of him limping in made her think, for a moment, of House– though Chase used a crutch, not a cane. Their step was almost the same.

"Dr. Chase. How may I help you?"

"I need a few days off." He said, and raised his hand. "I know that it's soon after my last absence, but…"

Cuddy folded her hands on the desk. "Does it have to do with House?"

"No," Chase shook his head. "No, House has nothing to do with this. It's– personal."

For a moment Cuddy studied him, and then she sighed and spread her hands. "How many?"

"Four?"

"Three." She smiled.

Chase returned her smile, and nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Cuddy."

As she watched him leave, Cuddy rested her chin against her fingers thoughtfully. She wondered if his time off had anything to do with a certain female doctor.

--

Eloise pulled the truck over to the side of the road, just before an exit off of the highway. She looked back and forth, suddenly in a moment of indecision. She could keep going straight, and drive on to New York. Or she could take the exit and curve around, hook up with the highway going in the opposite direction, and return to New Jersey.

Resting her forehead against the steering wheel she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she had accepted the job in New York she and Chase had been simple friends; leaving presented no difficulty. Now she felt like she was leaving a part herself behind, a very important part of herself.

So, he was with Cameron now. Yet– hadn't she just told him that some risks are worth it? She sat up and stared ahead. _So am I willing to fight for him? Am I willing to take the risk I won't win?_ She wondered.

The road stretched on before her, splitting into two completely different paths.

What should she do?

Her mind made up she put the truck back into gear, and she drove away, gunning the engine.

--

Chase took a cab home. Now that his mind was made up he felt a sense of urgency, a feeling that if he did not hurry he would be too late, so he entered the apartment lobby and took the elevator up, and from there unlocked his door. At this time he felt his handicaps more than ever. With his need for speed he quickly grew frustrated, limping here and there with his crutch and slowed movements and able to use only one hand.

Still, in a short amount of time he had packed a small bag and looked up bus times on his computer. As he limped to his door and grabbed his keys, he went over his plan. He was going to New York, and he was going to go to Eloise's new apartment, and then… Well, he knew what he wanted to say but not how to say it. He would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

Why he hadn't seen it before Chase didn't know. Where he had run from Cameron, he had run _to_ Eloise. When he wanted company, he had turned to Eloise. When he had needed a friend, he had turned to Eloise. When he had desired comfort and security, it was Eloise who held him. His happiest memories had been made in the last few weeks– filled with fun and laughter, quiet evenings and lively conversations. Where his kiss with Cameron had been pale and tasteless, there had been that kiss he and Eloise had shared when they had first met, and then that moment the other night… that almost-kiss that had been better than any kiss he had ever had before.

He had been a blind fool.

He opened his door, and stopped.

There stood Eloise. Her hair was loose, and she was breathing heavily from her run up the stairs. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked up at him with bright eyes.

"Hey." She said.

Chase stared. "Hey."

For a moment she said nothing. "I only got a short way down the road," she said. "When I realized I– " she fumbled in her pocket, and drew something out. "I forgot to leave your spare key."

Chase felt the cold metal press into his palm as she gave it back, and he eyed her in amusement. "You could have mailed it." He said.

"Yeah, well, I was coming back anyway. I realized that, you know– I never really liked New York. I don't actually want to live there."

"Oh." Chase held his breath, his thoughts whirling. "Um– do you want to come in?"

"Yeah–" She paused, her eyes falling on his packed bag. Her expression fell. "Oh­– I'm sorry. You're going somewhere." She lifted her gaze back to his face. "You taking a trip with Cameron?" she asked with forced nonchalance.

A smile graced his features. "Absolutely not." Letting the bag slide from his shoulder and off of his casted right hand, he kicked it with his foot to one side. "I'm not going anywhere. Please come in."

Eloise eyed him. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure." Shuffling into the kitchen on his crutch, Chase leaned self and crutch against the counter and set about putting water on to boil for tea.

Stepping in, Eloise went to the cupboard and opened it, pulling down their two favorite mugs. "So, you often pack a bag when you're not going anywhere?" she teased.

Chase chuckled. "Well, I was going to take a trip, but my plans changed."

Her eyebrows pulled together. "In the two seconds between opening the door and seeing me? Why?"

"Because this jobless, homeless person showed up on my front step."

Her mouth opened, and she gently smacked his good shoulder as he laughed.

Turning back to the counter she put the tea in the mugs, and then waited with Chase for the water to boil. There was an awkward silence, as each avoided looking at the other. Chase tapped the counter, trying desperately to formulate the speech he had been planning on creating on his way to New York. Now he would have to fly by the seat of his pants.

Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he carefully took a step closer– close enough to be on the edge of her personal space. Eloise shifted uneasily.

"I missed you." He said in a hushed voice.

Eloise took in a deep breath, and grabbed the two mugs. She slipped around him and over to the stove where the teapot had begun to hiss. Chase tipped his head back, muttering silently to himself; he knew what he wanted to tell her, but he felt like he was fumbling with the how-to-go-about-it part. She had her back to him, so he approached her again, feeling nervous but set; he had to just _do_ it.

Behind her, he was so close– he could smell her, feel her warmth, hear her quick, quiet breaths. He dipped his head to whisper in her ear.

The teapot emitted a shrill shriek.

Jumping, Chase backed up, trying not to stumble on his cast and crutch, hopping on his one good ankle. As Eloise poured the water into the mugs he ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. Eloise turned, mugs in hand, to find herself face to face with his chest.

"Oh…!" she gasped, holding a mug in each hand. For a moment neither one moved, and then she glanced up. "Um, could you…"

"Yeah, yeah." Chase moved back, and she passed him, heading for the table. Chase rolled his eyes at himself. _Idiot!_ He mentally scolded. Then he turned and followed her to the table. He had to just _say_ something; or better yet, _do_ something! Working himself up for a move, he approached her.

Eloise turned and held out a cup of tea to him. "So, how's Cameron?"

Chase released a heavy breath, feeling his boost of confidence deflate. Sitting down in a chair he accepted the cup of tea and watched her sit down across from him. "She's okay. I guess."

Eloise frowned, blowing the steam as it rose from her cup. "You guess? You're dating her, and you don't know?"

Chase coughed as he took a large gulp of tea that was still too hot. "What? No! No– we broke up, actually."

Brown eyebrows raised. "It's not even been twenty-four hours, and you've already broken up?"

"Yeah, well," he shrugged. "We're not actually that great together."

For a moment there was silence, full of awkward tension.

"You want something to eat?" Chase stood up too quickly, and knocked his crutch from its resting place against the table to the floor with a resounding crash. Closing his eyes Chase muttered some silent curses at himself, then rested his arm against the table and proceeded to attempt bending down, reaching out to retrieve the fallen crutch.

"Here…" A slender hand grabbed the crutch before him, and they both straightened at the same time.

Eloise caught her breath, finding herself so close that she could feel his warmth seeping into her. Slowly she raised her eyes to his, and found him staring down at her with parted lips and eyes that were wide and bright, as though with fever. She swallowed.

Chase looked down at her upturned face. Her cheeks had flushed, and her breath had quickened. The scent of raspberries wafted up and around him– he closed his eyes breathed in, and his heart began to thump heavy and hard within him. When he opened his eyes she was staring at him, and at his look her eyes dilated. Slowly he leaned down, till their noses brushed, their breath warm against their cheeks. Then he caught her mouth.

Eloise relaxed against him; his hands went to her sides, her shirt wrinkling under his hold. Heat rushed through his veins, her lips soft under his, and he pulled her close. He felt her hands go to his shoulders, and run up to his neck, making the skin tingle beneath her touch. Her fingers found his hair and tangled themselves in it, drawing a breath from him.

Their kisses grew more and more urgent, till Eloise was on her toes, and Chase had his arms around her.

The packed bag sat alone and forgotten by the door.

* * *


	27. Chapter 27

**"Black Cadillac"**

**Chapters 1-18 by You're out of your vulcan mind**

**Chapters 19+ by Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**

**Chapter 27**

Cuddy marched into House's office, without even bothering to knock. House looked up from his space-invader's game and eyed her with mock trepidation. "Oh no– it's the angry mom look. What have I done now?"

"Nothing– yet." Cuddy replied. "Why is Chase taking some time off?"

"He's taking time off?"

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

House blinked owlishly. "Um– seeing as how I'm still clueless that he took time off–"

Cuddy sighed. "House."

"No; I've been a good boy." House answered.

Smiling in relief, Cuddy nodded. "Good."

House squinted up at her impatiently. "So why is my intensivist taking time off? Again?"

Cuddy shrugged. "I was hoping it was because of you."

"Oh." House made a face. "Thank you."

"I honestly don't know." Cuddy said. "You have any ideas?"

Looking thoughtful, House tipped his head back against his chair. For a moment he said nothing.

Then he frowned. "Where's Cameron?"

Cuddy looked confused. "Clinic. Why?"

"Has she asked for time off?"

"No…"

Not really listening to Cuddy's answer, House grabbed his cane and stood, walking quickly out of his office. With a sigh Cuddy followed him to the elevators, and rode down with him.

Cameron was coming out of an exam room, holding a chart and a q-tip sample, which she passed off to a nurse. As the two bosses approached she looked up, and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Dr. Cuddy. House."

"Are you and Chase spending the next few days together?" House demanded without any preamble.

Blinking, Cameron stared at him. "No–"

"You're not taking time off?"

"We're not seeing each other. We broke up."

House paused and straightened. His expression became pleased, and also interested. "Uh huh– and when did this happen?"

"This morning." Cameron made a note on the chart and handed it to the nurse at the desk. Then she picked up another chart. "We both agreed that it was for the best. If Chase is taking some time off, I don't know anything about it."

Cuddy looked at him. "Maybe he just needs a few days rest– he _is_ still recovering from his injuries."

House eyed Cameron, and then he lifted his eyebrows. "So… Chase broke your heart, huh?"

"He did not break my…"

"Need some comfort? I'm free all week." He waggled his eyebrows.

Cuddy looked at House in shock and horror, but Cameron just rolled her eyes. "I'm not in need of any comfort. Thank you."

"Great! Seven o'clock it is. I'll bring the beer and pizza." House declared with a pleased expression. As he turned to leave he noticed Cuddy still staring at him. He grinned. "I've got a date!"

Watching House leave, Cameron shook her head with a secret, amused smile and returned to her work.

As House stalked away his brows pulled together in concentration. Something was going on, and it had nothing to do with Chase's ribs or crutch.

--

The next three days went by quickly. When Foreman and Cameron showed up on the fourth morning, they walked into Diagnostics to find Chase standing by the counter, making coffee. He looked up as they entered, and smiled. "Hi."

Foreman's brows pulled together, and he sat down at the table. "Hi."

Cameron eyed their coworker, watching him spoon grounds into the filter and fill the back with water. He looked rested, and relaxed. And happy. Very happy. As the coffee maker began to gurgle he picked up his crutch from its place against the counter and made his way over to the table.

"Enjoy your vacation?" Cameron asked, staring at her hands.

She looked up just in time to catch the flash of a grin that crossed his face.

"Yes," he said, sitting down. "I did. Very much."

Foreman folded his arms with interest. "Really? What'd you do?"

Chase shrugged. "Nothing much. Hung out in my apartment, went to a movie, went to the park… Just, hung out."

"New case!" House strode in, passing by the table and stopping in front of the board. "Male, 17… What? Why are you so happy?"

Chase lifted his hand from its place as a head support in a gesture akin to a shrug. He was smiling. "Just had a good vacation."

"Oh. Okay." House frowned, not satisfied, but deciding that he could pursue it later. "Symptoms are uncontrollable leg spasms and blindness in one eye…"

After everyone had been assigned their tasks House went to his office and picked up a ball, tossing it against his wall as he thought about Chase, the vacation, and the lack of phone calls from Eloise. She had promised to call him after she had settled into her place in New York, and as of yet he had heard nothing.

Then his phone rang. It was Eloise's cell number.

House grabbed the receiver. "It takes you four days to move into an apartment?"

There was laughter. "_Are you free?_"

"No. I'm doing surgery on a patient. Colonoscopy; you understand."

There was a knock on his office door. House looked up to see Eloise waving at him through the glass, her cell at her ear. When he noticed her presence she hung up and entered his office, smiling brightly. "Hello, House!" she said, leaning down and placing a kiss on his cheek.

House frowned at her as she sat down, and cocked his head. "Aren't you supposed to be in New York?"

"Change of plans." She crossed her leg over her knee. "Gave up the New York job; decided I would rather stay here. I was actually hoping you could point me to some available jobs."

"Maybe." House still frowned, the wheels in his head turning. "Didn't you already give up your apartment?"

She nodded. "But I found a new one. I'm moving in the first of next month."

"Ah. That's a week away." House grimaced, then offered: "You have a place to stay until then?"

"Actually, yes I do."

House blinked, and noted the pleased smile on her face. "You do?"

There was another knock at his door, and he looked up to see Chase leaning in. "Brain scan is clean. Still waiting on the blood tests."

"Okay. Thank you." House stopped; was it his imagination, or had Eloise just looked up at Chase with a sappy-sweet smile and shining eyes? And had Chase just smiled back, and _winked_?

After the intensivist left House turned on Eloise, only to be confronted with a wide and confirming smile as she waited for his reaction.

House leaned back. And gave her a mock glare. "You sneaky little minx."

Eloise just smiled.

--

"So, Eloise and Chase are together." Wilson said, standing out on his balcony eating a ham sandwich.

"Yep." House spread his arms and leaned against the edge of the balcony wall. "And they've set a date for next summer."

Wilson widened his eyes. "Wow. That's quick." He commented.

House made a face. "Yep." He sighed. "I guess this means I have to give Chase 'the talk.'" He frowned.

Wilson looked at his friend. "Why would _you_ have to give Chase the talk?"

"Well, her father isn't around to do it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean _you_ have to do it." Wilson took another bite of his sandwich, then his eyes widened, and he pointed. "You're doing it because you care!"

"I am not." House defended.

"It's the only possible explanation." Wilson grinned. "That's the third time."

"I do _not_ care!" House exclaimed in frustration. "You just want to pretend that you're rubbing some of your famous 'caring' stuff off on me, Mr. Sensitive."

"Well," Wilson shrugged and went back to eating his sandwich. "One can hope."

Cameron knocked on the door leading from the balcony to Wilson's office. When they noticed her she opened the door and poked her head through. "Are we still on for the Monster Truck Rally?"

House ducked his head as Wilson looked between them. "Yep. I'll pick you up at seven."

"Okay. See you then." With a smile, and a wave to Wilson, Cameron left.

Wilson turned and stared. "What is this?" he asked is mock surprise. "You're going on a date?"

"Didn't you talk to Cuddy?" House retorted. "She was there when it was arranged."

"Nah– you had offered to 'comfort' Cameron and 'heal her broken heart.' This is different– this is a date." Then Wilson frowned. "You're taking her to a _Monster Truck_ Rally?"

House sighed. "Yep." He declared. "She likes them."

"How do you know she–" Wilson stopped. His eyes widened. Stepping back he pointed at House, his eyes twinkling with delight and amusement. "You've taken her before! When? That last time? When I couldn't go? Oh– You did!"

"Oh, so what?" House groused.

"You've taken her on a date already? And you're taking her on another?" Wilson couldn't be more excited. "House, you _do_ care!"

"Ahh– would you get off it!" House exclaimed. "I do not care!"

"House and Cameron, sitting in a tree!"

"_I don't care_!"

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Ah!"

* * *

_Black Cadillac's dawn on a moonless night,  
Just wishing I had a place to go_

_Way behind the rising glow,  
Lit by the streets I had known_

_(Another life)_

_Ghosts of the past chase me down,  
So I turn from the city's glow_

_And every step lighten my load,  
As I walk down freedom road_

_  
I have been dragged_

_Kickin' and screamin'_

_Into another life_

_And I wanna curse_

_While the gods are still scheming me_

_Into another life  
_

_In a truck light's glare my shadow grows,  
At last I knew what to do_

_Now darkness torn by headlights,  
Was all of the future I knew_

_That silent stranger next to me,  
He just kept driving on_

_And when the change blew through my soul,  
Black and light was gone  
_

_I have been dragged_

_Kickin' and screamin'_

_Into another life_

_And I wanna curse_

_While the gods are still scheming me_

_Into another life  
_

_Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey_

_Oh yeah  
_

_I have been dragged_

_Kickin' and screamin'_

_Into another life_

_And I wanna curse_

_While the gods are still scheming me_

_Into another life_

**_~ Lloyd Paul "Black Cadillac" ~

* * *

_**


End file.
